by Diana Kirk
Right now, she had a more pressing problem. Her wedding night. Ugh. Sleep with the pharaoh. Now, wouldn't that make a cozy fireside topic back at Northwestern? Nonetheless, prisoners had to survive whatever the cost. That had been the way of things since the beginning of mankind. And this was damned close to the beginning of mankind.
Seta tapped her lightly on the shoulder, startling her back from her musings. "Alex, you are shivering. Come out of the water and I will dress you."
"I--I'm sorry, I must've fallen asleep."
"No, Alex. Your eyes were wide with a look of fear."
Alex stepped out of the water and Seta wrapped her in linen. The material felt strangely comforting against her skin. She longed for a nap. Just a quick one to rest her eyes.
"Do not worry about Pharaoh. He is a kind and benevolent ruler. I trust he will be so in your bed."
"It's the `in your bed' part I'm afraid of." Alex swiped her hand across her brow. "Seta what am I going to do?"
"I--I do not know. I would think this a great honor. Yet, I do not come from your country and cannot judge your feelings."
Seta rubbed her warming hands up and down the cloth. A small measure of relief flowed into Alex. Yet still, unless another miracle happened, by sundown she'd be Mrs. Pharaoh. It never hurt to pray for miracles.
Seta led her back up the stairs to stand before a large chest. "Here are many fine clothes." She gestured to the pile of colorful, gold embroidered linens. "You have only to choose."
Alex sorted through with a measure of disinterest. "Do you have anything in sackcloth?"
"Sackcloth? What is that?" Seta tilted her head in that silly way she had and Alex broke out in a weak laugh.
"Hair shirts and sackcloth are what one wears for punishment and I'm certainly being punished."
"But you have done nothing wrong." Seta pushed Alex down onto a bench, combed out her tangled hair, and proceeded to braid it.
"I feel as if I have. Somewhere, someone is punishing me for something I did in the past, or I wouldn't be here. Ouch!" She pulled away from Seta. "That hurts."
"Stop it!" Seta's voice took on a stern tone. "I am a Nubian princess. I was stolen from my kingdom when very young, and I was given to Tarik.
"He has always treated me with kindness and I have learned to accept my fate." Her hands stilled and rested on Alex's shoulders. "You have been given to Pharaoh and he is also kind. You will not live out your days as a servant. You will enjoy the fruits of the royal crown of Egypt and you also must accept your fate."
Alex gazed up into Seta's face. "In my land, women don't have to accept anything at face value. It's against our very nature. We're free. To choose a profession or a mate. That's why I can't deny my destiny. I've got to get back to my time or die trying. Do you understand?"
"I do." Seta bowed her head. "I am sorry I cannot do more. But regardless of my birthright, it is my destiny to help you. Your care has been entrusted to me. Whatever fate you have determined, I shall be a part of it"
Alex hugged her. "You're the best."
THE BANQUET room had been lavishly prepared with platters of fowl, joints of meat, and delicacies of unimagined proportions. Tarik reached out and grabbed a ripe fig. Its sweetness argued with the bitter taste of regret in his mouth, and he swallowed hard.
Mentuhotep's entire family lined the room, chattering excitedly and curiously, attempting a peek at Pharaoh's new wife. Tarik glanced repeatedly in her direction, but she refused to meet his gaze. He'd committed an unpardonable sin, one she would never forgive, and his heart threatened to burst from the sorrow he had inflicted upon himself.
Alex had never been lovelier. A fitting bride for a pharaoh. Gold threads intertwined her braids and her white gown shimmered against the pinkness of her skin. Tarik had never wanted anyone so much in his life, nor known such pain.
Mentuhotep leaned forward and raised his goblet of beer. Tarik smiled weakly and returned the gesture. Alex's gaze caught his briefly and the pain and hatred shooting from hers was palpable.
A sense of unrest overwhelmed him, and he paid no attention to Tem, who sat next to him. Her incessant words of lust droned in his ear.
"Not to fear, Mentuhotep will be much occupied this evening." Her fingers traced up his leg and under his kilt.
"What?" Startled, he almost rose from his seat.
Mentuhotep's gaze traveled between Tem and Tarik. Had Pharaoh noticed his wife's infraction? He longed to change his seat, yet would it cast disfavor upon him to react in such a manner?
His only hope was to get through the meal and make his exit as soon as Mentuhotep retired to his wedding bed. The thought of Alex's hair fanned out beneath Pharaoh's gaze, her lips against his lips, and her body against his ruler's, cooled Tarik's blood and the pain in his chest threatened to burst forth.
Mentuhotep took a joint of meat and tore off a mouthful. Leaning toward Alex, he murmured something in her ear. She glanced up in surprise and sputtered out an answer. Pharaoh gazed at Tarik and his mouth formed a great smile. What did she say that amused him so?
Mouth full, Mentuhotep reared back in laughter. Almost instantly, his countenance turned to terror. Eyes bulging, he stood, dropped the food and clawed at his throat. His face turned purple and death hovered over the festivities. Tarik rose out of his seat to attend to his king, but his legs seemed made of stone.
Within a moment, Alex rose, circled behind Mentuhotep and wrapped her arms around his middle. One, two, three thrusts of her tiny fists against his chest and a great wad of meat flew from Pharaoh's throat in a rush of air. He let out a mighty groan and gulped the air as if it were fluid. Tarik reached him just in time to catch his buckling knees.
Mentuhotep gazed between Tarik and Alex and gasped. "What is this thing you have done?"
Alex placed her fingers along his arm and felt the skin over his wrist. "His pulse is thready," she said to Tarik. "Let him rest a few minutes, he'll be all right."
"How did you save him?" Tarik's admiration of her skill wiped away his pain.
"Once again, it's a simple manipulation. His airway was blocked. I simply placed my arms around his waist, made a fist with one hand and grasped it with the other. Here, I'll show you." Her anger obviously forgotten, Alex slipped her arms around his waist and he breathed in her scent of sun and woman and life itself. The nearness of her spun in his head.
"Press into the stomach with quick upward thrusts." She pulled her fist against his midriff and he felt the surge against the back of his throat.
"It's called the Heimlich."
With the help of his bearers, Mentuhotep stood and bowed toward her. "Himlik?" He rubbed along his chest. "Although my middle pains me greatly, you are indeed a great healer."
"It's your ribs," Alex offered. "I may have cracked one or two."
"Indeed," Tem interrupted. "How fitting, a wife who can keep her husband alive in the face of his enemies."
"Ah, I wish it were so," Mentuhotep answered.
"How is that my king? Do you not have her as wife?"
"No, my queen." His voice had an edge of bitterness. Yet the meaning of his words slowly cleared out the fog in Tarik's heart. "Not as wife to me."
"What?" Tarik and Tem said in startled unison. Alex lifted her chin in defiance.
"As comely as she is, this woman is not for me." He turned toward Tarik. "Is it not you who found her?"
"Yes, but--"
"Is it not you who sacrificed your desires for me?"
"Yes, but--"
"Then it is you who will wed her as husband."
"No!" Alex fisted her hands on her hips and spat out the words. Fire burned in her eyes. "I won't marry this snake. He'd sell his mother, if he could get something out of it. I'd rather die."
What had he just heard from his pharaoh's lips? Mentuhotep had gifted him with Alex? The pain in his chest was replaced by triumph. No matter if she was angry. This very night she would rest in his bed, in his arms. Her hot and fiery body beneath his needy
one. He fought the smile that forced its way between his lips.
Mentuhotep turned toward Tarik. "Was I mistaken? Did I not see the longing between you? Do you not wish this woman as wife?"
"Of course not," Tem snapped. "She is foreign and unknowing of our ways. Pharaoh's great physician would not lower himself--"
"He would refuse Pharaoh's gift?" Mentuhotep scowled at his wife.
Tarik bowed toward his king. "Alex has many medical secrets to teach me. And she is pleasing to my eyes. Your offer is great, my king. Of course, I will honor you by accepting your gift, for it is as wondrous as the very pyramids themselves. I will care for her with--"
"Not on your life, pal." Alex glared at both of them. "How could you--"
"I am Pharaoh," Mentuhotep said. "Do not challenge me, woman. If I say you are married to Tarik and he wishes it, then it is so."
"You won't tell me what to do. I'd rather die than--"
"Silence!" Mentuhotep raised his hand. "By all that is told to me, you are a great healer. And by your own hand you saved my life. For that I am thankful and will overlook your insolence. This time, only, will I spare your life."
Tarik came up behind her. "Do not anger him further."
Alex flashed him a searing glance, yet her lips remained sealed.
Mentuhotep pointed to her. "If by tonight you have not willingly consummated this marriage, regardless of Tarik's pleasure, you shall have your wish and the jackals will dine upon your comely form."
He turned toward Tarik. "The royal chambers have been readied. It is my gift to you before your trip back to Abydos." Tarik placed his arm around her shoulders, but she pulled away. "Thank you, friend and lord, Mentuhotep. May Isis protect you until my return."
Pharaoh nodded his head. "And may Amon gift you with a man-child upon your return. Now go, and let the evening spirits bless your joining."
Alex and Tarik stared at the closed door. Conflicting emotions wound her heart like a watch spring until it beat out a rhythm of anticipation mixed with dread. She'd feared a wedding night with Mentuhotep. As if a switch had been flipped, everything had changed and Tarik had been named as her husband. Not in her wildest dreams did she think she'd be married to the man she'd sworn to hate forever. Still, the thought of his arms around her, his tongue invading her most secret places, the feel of him deep inside, left her quivering with excitement.
His quarters were a grander version of hers--larger with a lot more furniture. Gilded sofas with room enough for two were tucked away in every corner of the room. Who else had lain beside him here? A queen, maybe?
Carved end-tables were covered with fruit-filled alabaster bowls, all conveniently within an arm's reach. Maybe she could avoid physical contact with him by keeping her mouth full? Stupid idea. The very thought of food left a large lump in her throat. Anger did strange things. In a situation like this, it was best to take the offense--catch him off guard--let him know where he stood.
Obviously, he'd never met a real woman. A modern one. One who could use her wits and not just her body like that slut, Tem, drooling all over him. Was he so stupid he couldn't see through her? Women may have had equality under the law in Egypt, but they had little else. Not even literacy. The only way a woman could get anywhere was if she had money, or slept her way to the top. Just like in her time. Other than slavery, there wasn't much out there in the way of work. Here, the glass ceiling consisted of a canopy. What did he care about, anyway? Just his male ego.
She faced him and pushed against his chest. "How could you?"
At first, confusion crossed his expression, then it darkened, as if a sudden storm blurred his vision. "It was my duty--"
"--to what? Give me away like trash? Use me and then dispose of me? To--to anyone?"
"Mentuhotep is not anyone, he is our--"
"I thought after--after what had happened in the garden--"
She stormed over to the table, grabbed a goblet of beer, and drank deeply. The rich malt brew flowed easily down her throat and warmed her empty stomach. A dizzy sensation filled her head. Tarik's voice softened, he crossed over to within inches of where she stood. The familiar scent of heat and wine and desire filled her head with visions of what was to come, but his voice remained cold. "Does honor mean nothing to those of your country?"
"Hold it." She shoved her hand out in front of her, pushing against his hard-muscled chest. "Don't come any closer."
"As you wish." Frost invaded the warm, deep tones of his voice. "But answer my question. Is honor regarded so little in your land that you would betray a promise?"
Alex took another long swallow of brew. This time its warmth traveled to her spine and tingled the very ends of her toes.
Tarik had her on that point. "Some things never change. Even in my time, men value personal gain over everything else. You're all alike. You've got honor all mixed up with your own self-serving motives."
"I don't understand you."
"That's nothing new, either." She sipped away, noticing how the muscles in his jaw clenched and unclenched when he was upset. "I thought we had something between us that had transcended time."
"We--?"
"Obviously, I've been sadly mistaken."
He filled his goblet and faced her. Alex fixed her gaze on a drop of brown liquid trailing down the corner of his mouth. A mouth that had pleasured her beyond her wildest desires. He really didn't understand how she felt. She was from another time. Even in the twentieth century, men didn't understand what they did to hurt women. She'd judged him by standards that were four thousand years in the making, yet this was one species that hadn't evolved.
"You are now my wife. You must remember the king's promise."
"You remember it. I may be your wife here and now, but I'm not your property. You can't make me do anything I don't want to do. And when I get back to my time, your bones will have dried up and blown away like so much sand." She snapped her fingers under his nose.
A puzzled look replaced his anger. His dark eyes glistened in the candlelight. She glanced around the room into the shadowed corners. When had night descended upon them? It didn't matter. No way would they be making love.
"Well, Alex, as long as you are in Egypt--" He pointed his finger at her and anger furrowed his brow. "--and you are here now. You are my responsibility. You do belong to me. You are mine, as I am yours."
"Responsibility?" She slammed her goblet on the table, dark brown drops splashed across its alabaster surface. "I'm not your responsibility. I can take care of myself. Here or anywhere." She fisted her hand toward his face. "And don't call me wife."
Alex stormed out of the room, down the hallway, and out into the courtyard leading toward the wharf. She turned back once to find him right behind her, his expression angry, his face as dark as the night surrounding them. With one quick movement, he reached out with both hands and stopped her cold.
His nearness increased her dizziness. The thought of nestling her head against his well-defined chest crossed her mind, but his words startled her back to awareness.
"You cannot be out here alone at night. Dead spirits walk the earth and harm may befall you."
"I can and I will. I did before. Besides--" She wriggled from his grasp and flattened her hands in a karate formation. "--I'm a fourth degree black belt. If I can walk the streets of Chicago, I can certainly take care of myself here." She glanced around and tilted her head. "You can see for yourself, this place is deserted, and I'm certainly not afraid of your silly superstitions." She gestured toward the palace looming like a dark mountain behind them. "If you're afraid then go back." Alex plopped onto the sandy soil and sifted it through her fingers. "But, I'm not moving. You'll have to drag me."
Tarik paced in front of her, kicking up small mounds of dust. "You are my wife and you shall remain so, unless I wish you to be gone." He pointed at her. "Think upon this. Why would I want such as you to be called wife? You have the manners of a cobra and the temperament of a scorpion."
"I do not."
She glared and jutted out her chin. "It's just that you bring out the worst in me."
Tarik leaned down on one knee and ran his finger along her jaw. "Why do you protest our joining so? Can you not understand whereof I speak?" A smile crossed his lips. "Pharaoh gave you to me. Now, everything is the way it should be. Why else would I desire you, unless it would burst my heart to let you go?"
"But you--you." Alex pounded the earth. "Oh, damn. It's all your fault." Large tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them away. You broke my heart and you don't even know it.
"My fault? I do not understand what you say."
He released her chin and drew her to her feet. It was all so useless. She shrugged, shook her head, and again hurried toward the dock. She couldn't let her desire for him overwhelm her purpose or dull her pain. She didn't care what he thought. Sure, they were husband and wife, now, but when it really mattered she'd been little more than a one-night stand. That's all she'd been to him until Pharaoh had sealed her fate. Tarik hadn't seemed to care. Anger swelled again.
"You used me!" she called back.
"Used you?"
"Stop repeating everything I say."
A few massive strides brought him onto the dock. He sat down on the edge, and laced his fingers behind his head, gazing up at the stars obviously bored with her. "Tell me how I used you."
"You really are a cocky bastard." She stared down at him and started toward the boat, again, quickly slanting her gaze in his direction. He stood and followed. But his sense of urgency had slowed to a rambling pace. She had nowhere to go. He had her right where he wanted her. Alone. The rat thought this was funny, part of wedding night rituals, no doubt. He'd been humoring her, egging her on.
She climbed aboard Tarik's boat and paced the deck. Realization of her aloneness washed over her and she plopped down on a settee, frustrated and angry and wanting him. Tarik followed and sat down next to her, exasperatingly dark and handsome.
"Where do you think you are going?"
"I don't know--anywhere--somewhere." She rubbed her forehead and gazed up at him. "That night in the garden--" Her breath caught in her throat and she ground her teeth.
