by Diana Kirk
He backed toward the door and his smirk intensified into a sneer. She could tell by his condescending attitude he thought she was a mere woman, nothing more than chattel. He didn't give a fig that she was a doctor and had just saved his father.
"No others will visit you this night. Guards are stationed without, so do not think you have free reign. You must stay hidden." His eyes widened and he shook his head. "If Hathor finds you--"
"Yeah, yeah, sure. Thank's for everything, Merikare."
His lips hardened with cruelty. "Do not think you are safe here. On this night, my father will pray for mercy. Yet, if his goddess has not been appeased, she may call for your death. Be assured, I will honor her bidding with relish."
"Oh sure, your ghosts and goblins are a convenient way to rationalize my death. If you want to kill me, go ahead. Just don't blame some idol."
Alex turned her back to him.
"My father is the great and noble Pharaoh of all Egypt. I am heir to his throne and must obey his order." She could hear the controlled anger in his voice. Or was it something else? A shudder rattled her spine. His voice softened. "I would not be happy to see your death, but be assured I am able and most willing to carry out this deed."
What was he saying? Was he explaining what he was about to do? Rationalizing? How noble, how sweet, how sickening.
"Thanks for nothing." Sarcasm dripped from her lips.
"Watch your tongue, woman--" He lashed out and slapped her hard. The familiar taste of blood filled her mouth. "--or it may be pulled from your blasphemous lips."
Ah, she'd struck a chord. Good. He needed to know she wouldn't cower in front of him. No matter what he did to her.
He gripped her cheeks beneath his hand and pulled her face close to his. "You say you are the great Tarik's wife. Does he relish your favors in the bedroom as much as he covets your healing powers?"
He ground his hips against hers and she struggled against him. Would he take her as he threatened? The crimes of the Herakleopolis were compounding, and for the first time in her life she wished another human being dead, or at least dismembered.
"You would do well to favor me, wife of Tarik," he said, his breath hot against her face. "I might be persuaded to let you live out a life of luxury as my chosen mate."
Alex widened her eyes, her heart beat wildly, pain and anger spurred her on. She shoved against him with all her strength. "Go back to your party and leave me alone."
He pulled her tighter against him and she felt his hardness beneath his kilt. He reached up and grabbed her breast, squeezing hard. She repressed a cry of outrage and shuddered.
"You are mine to do with as I so choose. Do not mistake this. Before you die, I will have you, and your haughty Lord Tarik shall watch."
"I'd sooner take my chances with Hathor." She shoved against him. She wanted to rake her nails across his face, but some innate sense of self-preservation stopped her. It wouldn't take much to make this man kill her.
He released her and stepped back preparing to strike her again. A malevolent smile formed as if he'd thought better of it, and he slammed from the room.
A plan was forming. What had stopped him? He'd been so anxious to join the others, instead of raping her. No doubt, he planned to do it later. He'd said as much. Hell, if they were all drinking and getting slowly bombed, it'd only be a matter of time and she'd be able to slip away. All she had to do was wait them out.
Claustrophobia swirled in around her. She had to get out of here and find her way back to Abydos, to Tarik. Home. Somehow. Her breathing slowed and her blood turned to ice. When had she started thinking of Abydos and Tarik as home? It'd finally happened. She was delirious. Alex rubbed her tired eyes. It was all too much to comprehend. She needed rest, needed to refresh and regroup her thoughts. The urge to curl up into a ball and sleep grew stronger. It'd only be for just a moment.
She shook her head to clear it. She couldn't miss the only opportunity she might ever have to escape.
ALEX STARTLED awake. The moon's glow filtered through the opening and bathed the room in eerie shadows. How long had she lain here? Too long? She'd tried so hard to stay awake and her body had betrayed her.
Uncoiling her stiff limbs, she tiptoed to the door and slowly released the latch. It clicked into place with a loud echo. Her hands were sweaty and her knees trembled. Had she been heard? Would a swarm of guards pounce on her any minute? Didn't really matter. She'd rather die right here than never see Tarik again.
Alex peeked her head through the doorway and glanced out. The guards had seemingly drunk their fill and lay sprawled along the hallway directly blocking her exit. No sign of Merikare. She eased closer. Snores assaulted her. From the number of toppled goblets and spillage on the floor, it'd be awhile before they opened their eyes.
But it was stupid to underestimate the capacity of Egyptians. They drank this stuff for breakfast, dinner, and in between. It was part of their bloodstream.
Alex stepped gingerly over one snoring guard and then another. A sickening sense of doom surrounded her. This was too easy. She glanced back, her spine stiffening with the dreaded anticipation of discovery. Still quiet. The palace was too quiet. Was this a trap?
She took a deep breath and stepped again and again. Slowly, carefully until she reached the second doorway. The door was closed. She pushed against the latch and it grated open. Her breath caught in her throat.
Was this it? She looked back. A guard stirred, mumbled something unintelligible and turned on his side.
Alex eased through the rest of the way and held on to the door until it clicked shut. She hurried down a second, third, fourth hallway until she reached an outer courtyard filled with still, sleeping bodies.
Her heart had now taken up permanent residence in her throat and her head throbbed. She had to make it out of here before she stroked-out completely.
Okay, almost done. The outer gate was ajar and she squeezed through without a sound. Alex glanced around the deserted streets. Thank God for superstitious Egyptians. No one dared set foot outside. Still she kept to the shadows, slipping from doorway to doorway until she was certain she hadn't been followed. She leaned her shoulder against a building, succumbing to the urge to stop and catch her breath. She drew in a long draught of cool, desert air and the precious sense of freedom.
A hand clamped over her mouth and she swallowed the scream that fought for release. Merikare had found her! She struggled against him, but he pulled her tight against him.
"Let go of me you slug." She jabbed her elbow back, but it missed its mark.
"Shhh, my love," he whispered in her ear. "We must hurry.
Her arms and legs wobbled and she threatened to collapse. Was that truly Tarik's voice or had she finally flipped? Too long without food and only beer to drink had taken its toll. "You're not Tarik."
Oh, how she longed to curl up safe in her husband's arms.
"Nay, it is I, my love."
His breath was hot against her ear but she jerked her head away breathing in the strong male musk so much like Tarik. Marikare had committed the final sin. He'd even stolen her husband's scent. She swallowed a sob and lifted her head. Even her senses betrayed her into thinking this vile beast was her husband.
"No, you don't fool me. You're nothing more than a hunger hallucination." She jabbed her elbow back again, this time it hit the mark and a loud, "Oomph!" answered back.
Suddenly, she was free and she stumbled from his arms knocking her head against the wall.
"Alex? Are you all right?"
"I can't--I won't--You can't make me." She fought the blackness tunneling around her. "Please. Please let me see my hus--"
HE'D NOT meant to frighten her. But, bless the gods he'd found her. It was all but impossible to have found her in the palace and to escape with her to a place of safety. He'd been searching for a way to get in. Wanting, hoping, fearing that she was not already dead. And, as if the gods had destined it, she walked right into his arms--all warm and soft and w
ondrously alive. He gazed down at her. She was beautifully strange and exciting. She had caught his heart in a way no other woman ever had or would. And after all they had shared between them, their lovemaking, healing the sick and dying, they were once again together.
He gathered her up in his arms and held her tightly against him until he reached the first intersection. The moon's brightness illuminated the square. Empty. But that was as it should be. Hathor was a vicious goddess and no one would dare confront her in the blackness. Again, he slipped into the shadows and became as one with the buildings.
Still, Alex seemed not to trust him and had run away rather than allow him to tell her the truth about Tem. Had their time together meant nothing to her? Had she been deceiving him all along? If she cared, surely she would have trusted him enough to know the words he spoke to Tem were nothing more than flattering lies. Lies meant to protect his wife. But then, why should she trust him? She had been a captive ever since she had come to his land. First, as a slave bound for Pharaoh's harem, then given to Tarik as wife with no agreement from her, and now as a hostage of the Herakleopolis. Not once had she been asked, or even considered. What it was that she wished?
As if carrying a pharaoh's treasure in his arms, he drifted from building to building and street to street moving steadily toward his destination. The wharf and freedom lay beyond.
He loved his wife with every breath, every waking thought unto eternity. He had experienced the taste of her on his lips, the touch of her soft, alabaster skin beneath his fingers, and the oneness he felt inside her filled him with renewed desire. He could no longer bear to lose her and continue on with his own life. The threat of her leaving was so great, he had hidden the scroll to keep her here.
Yet, did his stubborn pride not lose her, anyway, when she ran from him into the clutches of Merikare? Yes. For her it was finished. He had angered her so, it would do no good to keep her in Egypt. His love for her was too great to bear her pain and longing any more. He must allow her the chance to choose whether or not she wished to stay.
She groaned and murmured words he did not understand. She had hit her head. Enough to force delirium and possibly death? He slowed and kissed her forehead. He would check her injury when they were safe inside the boat. She seemed lighter, paler somehow and her soft, fragile body in his arms stirred his passions.
Tarik squared his shoulders. It was settled. He would give her the scroll when they returned to Abydos. If they returned at all.
He ran with her in his arms until he could run no farther and then he walked until he reached the edge of the Nile where a small reed boat rocked with the gently lapping waves of the river. In the cloak of darkness, they would be safe, but soon Ra would awaken the others and Merikare would discover her missing.
So far Isis had blessed him, but now he needed to get Alex as far away from the city as fast as he could. Mentuhotep's armies were positioned to attack at dawn and that would keep the Herakleopolis occupied, at least for a measure of time. He nestled Alex against the bow of the boat and ran his hand along her cheek, her neck, her supple body. The moonlight illuminated their surroundings with a surreal glow and bathed her skin in an eerie ethereal whiteness.
Alex had grown thin from lack of nourishment and ill treatment. He bent low and kissed the bruises along her cheeks. What torment had she suffered under the hand of Merikare? What humiliation? She had been beaten or possibly even worse. He clenched his fists and raised them toward the heavens. "Merikare," he called out to the darkness. "You vile bastard son of Hathor. I will requite my wife and spill your blood with my own hands, and leave it thick and flowing at her feet."
He examined her long, slim legs and prayed he would not find the telltale bruises of violation. It was all his fault, those silly words he'd said to Tem. He was the cause of his wife's pain, and now, he could not bear to know all that she had endured. Yet he must know it.
A light breeze filled the sails of the skiff propelling it along the Nile's swift current, north toward Giza and away from Abydos. The enemy would expect her to flee toward Upper Egypt and her home. But he would not do this. He would take them in the opposite direction and find a safe place, a sanctuary, where they could wait for deliverance. He prayed Mentuhotep's armies would be victorious. And then he would have his revenge.
A GENTLE RHYTHM tugged at Alex's consciousness, coaxing her up a long, dark corridor toward the light. She wandered aimlessly, her movements in rhythm with a soft melody--a song--a song of Isis. She tried to open her eyes but it was too relaxing to keep them closed. It seemed almost that she was in the warm security of her own bed. Had she died and gone to Heaven?
No. It was more like an embrace. A warm and loving one. As if Tarik's arms were wrapped around her for eternity.
But she was dead. Cold. Stone. Dead.
Her subconscious knew it, yet she didn't feel cold or dead. From the way it felt, she was in paradise. Yet, if that was true then why did her heart still ache for Tarik? And where was he? Because she couldn't be in Heaven without him. Her destiny. Her eternity. Her very soul.
"Alex." A soft voice called to her. How like Tarik it sounded.
"Alex. Wake up."
A large, warm hand cupped her chin and lifted her head. It even felt like Tarik's hand. But that couldn't be. She'd left him. And then she'd died at the hands of that animal. The barbarous, murderous Merikare. He'd relished the moment when he could whisper in her ear and smother her with his bare hands. She hadn't even been able to say goodbye to the man she loved with all her life.
No. She'd been robbed and now she refused to cooperate--even if she was in Heaven.
"Go away." She shoved out her hand.
"Alex, open your eyes." The voice sounded too much like Tarik to be an imitation. But who? Why? How?
She sat up suddenly, blinked her eyes, and shook her head. Pain throbbed through her in response. For a brief moment, the glare of the sun blinded her and she saw only a dark form eclipsing its brightness. The familiar scent of sun, and wind, mixed with man that could only belong to her husband greeted her senses and she knew this was no imposter. Alex blinked again sheltering her eyes with her hand and stared directly into the darkly mysterious gaze of the man she loved.
"Ah, your ka has finally decided to return." Tarik smiled.
Alex lunged forward, ignoring her pain, and threw her arms around his neck, throwing the small reed boat off balance.
"Be still, my love." He held her firmly and eased her down into the center of the boat. "You will capsize the craft and we will most certainly belong to the Nile after the crocodiles are finished with us."
He motioned toward the fearsome reptiles lazing along the banks, close enough to open their jaws and crush the boat.
"Tarik? How--how?
"Seta told me--"
She gripped his arms. "She's alive?"
He eased her back down into the shelter of the boat.
"Battered and bruised and out of sorts, but very much alive, the same as you."
"Me? But I thought--" She gazed into the depth of his eyes and saw his love. "This isn't some sort of hallucination? I'm really alive?"
Tarik dipped his hand into the water and patted the lump on her head. The shock of its coolness on her skin startled her. "It's cold. My God, Tarik, when I felt a hand cover my mouth, I thought it was Merikare."
He wrapped his arms around her. "I had to prevent your screaming. I will never leave you." His gaze darkened. "But I fear you may leave me."
"I don't think--" She thought of Tem and the words he'd said. "I heard you talking to Tem."
"Those were only words meant to distract her from her jealousy of you, my love. Do you not know that I could no more harm you than cut off my own hand?"
Her cheeks grew hot. "I know that now. I was wrong. I was foolish to run into the desert. I was--" She waited for a few moments and crossed her arms over her breasts. "You can stop me anytime."
He bent down and covered her face with soft kisses, his whi
skers rubbing gently against her cheeks. "I will not stop you. It is good to hear these words slip from your lips. You were not one born to humility." He released her and sat back against an oar and crossed his arms. "In many ways you and Tem are very similar."
"What?" A brief flash of anger erupted then died as soon as she saw his smile. "And you're rubbing it in?"
The smile changed to a questioning frown. "You wish me to rub you?"
His hand trailed up her arm and down her back leaving a trace of sensual awareness. His touch was magic. She leaned forward and he took her in his arms again rocking the boat violently. "Shhh, my beloved. We must rest quietly nestled in these reeds until the night comes upon us. I want to reach Giza by dawn on the coming day."
"Giza? But you said--"
Tarik nuzzled her neck. "I said it was in enemy territory."
"So why are we going there?" A cold fear chased the sunlight from her.
He nipped her chin, his breath soft and warm as he spoke. "It is the safest place for us until Mentuhotep's armies set us free."
"And now you travel at night?"
He smiled and pulled her closer. "I no longer fear the night as before. You have taught me this and many other wondrous things."
Alex brushed her lips against his and feasted on the taste of him. "And you've taught me a few things."
"What have I taught you that you did not already know?"
Chapter Fifteen
SHE WAS SAFE. Safe inside the soft comfort of their boat. Alex gazed up into the coal black eyes of the man who'd stolen her soul and thanked whatever gods of luck had brought her here to ancient Egypt and his arms. The morning sun beat down upon the desert, yet they remained cool and comfortable hidden against the shaded banks of the Nile.
"Tarik, have I thanked you, yet?"
"Shhh. We are near our destination and you must rest." He gazed around. "We will wait until darkness falls again and then complete our journey."
She stretched her limbs. Her bruised arms and legs felt like she'd been scrunched up for weeks instead of only days. "I guess I'm a mess, huh?"
