Shadow of the Sheikh (9 page)

A lot was riding on the Haliday woman. Shahin hoped she wasn't as hostile and aggressive as she'd seemed at the temple ruin two days ago. “What if she doesn't want any part of it? Or of you?” Shahin asked Seth cautiously. In this instance, he agreed
with Nephtys. “We need her acquiescence, and frankly, Josslyn Haliday didn't strike me as the accommodating type.”

Two sets of eyes peered at him, one blithely unworried, the other more guarded.

“Then I shall have to employ all my powers of persuasion on her, shan't I?” Seth said. “As will you. How do you propose to gain her consent to bring her here?”

“Both her sisters have gone missing, as well as her mother,” Shahin said. “I doubt it will take much convincing to get her to Khepesh of her own free will. Yours will be the more difficult task by far.”

“We shall see,” Seth said, rising. “In the meantime, keep a close eye on Haru-Re and let me know of any developments on that front. I look forward to your swift return with my future consort, my friend.”

“My will is to serve, my lord.”

As Shahin left Khepesh Palace, shifted to hawk and took wing aboveground into a darkness that was already beginning to fade, he gauged he had another hour or so before dawn. He decided to make a quick circuit of the slice of desert that Set-Sutekh ruled, the area Shahin was responsible for keeping safe. To prove he was not a slave to his desire for the woman who awaited him in his bed.

Which he wasn't. Not by any means.

His body wanted her, yes. But that would diminish quickly enough. With familiarity she would lose her unique appeal, and his instinctive distrust would eclipse any affection he might have begun to feel for her. It always happened.

Thank Osiris's wisdom, because Shahin didn't know what he'd do if he started wanting a woman for more than a passing fancy. That would be unacceptable. He knew only too well what happened when he let himself feel too much. Lies.

Betrayal.

Weakness.

Disaster.

And right now, he could afford none of the above.

Seth-Aziz was depending on him. Khepesh was depending on him. The next several days could spell the difference between defeat and annihilation, or reaching his goal and savoring total victory over the enemy. And there was nothing,
nothing
, he'd allow to get in his way of knowing the sweet taste of that revenge.

Least of all a woman.

He clamped his jaw.
Especially
a woman.

Even if she did make his heart beat just a little faster.

G
emma awoke alone.

The other half of the bed was empty, the tent so quiet she could hear the ghostly rasp of grains of sand bouncing off the outside walls as the winds of dawn stirred the desert to life. The room was dark. So dark she couldn't even see her toes when she wiggled them.

“Shahin?” she called softly.

Only silence echoed back at her.

In her mind, she tried to picture the inside of the tent and where the furniture and other obstacles were placed. And the position of the outer door. Sliding out of bed, she slowly inched her way toward
it, bumping her knees only three or four times before hitting the stiff fabric wall with her outstretched hands. Feeling her way, she found the door and shoved aside the heavy curtain to the outside. Cool night air rushed over her face, fading starlight still lighting the oasis in a relief of moving silhouettes and shadows. Burning embers in several fire rings glowed orange and red, but no one sat around them swapping stories or dreaming. The whole camp was silent; it seemed everyone had retired to their rest.

She opened her mouth to call for Shahin again, but something kept her from releasing the sound. Closing her mouth, she listened carefully for anyone out and about. There was no one.

It would be the perfect opportunity to take a more thorough look around.

Or to escape.

Turning back inside, she scanned the dark tent interior for a candle, then ran out to the nearest fire pit to light it. Once back in the tent, she lit several others so she could see. Just in case Shahin lurked somewhere, watching her. Testing her.

But she was indeed alone.

The first thing she did was a quick search of Shahin's belongings, thinking she might find confirmation of his intentions regarding her and Josslyn. There was a desk and a sizable collection
of books, but nothing relevant to the situation. No papers either. No letters, no plans. Nothing.

Was that a good thing or a bad thing?

Damn!

She should go. Now. Escape while she had the chance. Except…

Blood pumping with adrenaline, she sat on a tussock and squeezed her eyes shut. She was so torn.

On the one hand, Shahin had admitted that the cult—the
per netjer
—had plans to lure her sister permanently into their fold. And herself as well, if his statement about not letting her go in this morning was true. She wasn't so sure it was. “Collateral damage” didn't sound like she mattered one way or another. Though Shahin seemed to thoroughly enjoy her…um, company…it was Josslyn they really wanted, if his explanation last night was to be believed.

The whole situation was too bizarre for words.

And the most bizarre of all was that she hadn't already rushed out to find Bint, saddle up in a panic and set out hell-bent for leather back to the villa instead of sitting here debating with herself about what to do. She
should
be scared out of her mind. She
should
be doubting her own sanity over all that she'd seen here. She should be horrified at her own behavior
last night. Mortified at what she'd done in that bed on the other side of the tent, with a man who had turned her known world upside down and shown her things that simply weren't possible—though her eyes told her otherwise. She should be embarrassed that a virtual stranger had made her feel things she'd had no idea she was able to feel, both physically…and in her heart. She
should
be terrified of him. Of what he did to her, inside and out. She should be running away, as fast and as far as she possibly could.

But there you go. She didn't
want
to run.

This was the chance of a lifetime! These people were
shape-shifters!
Immortals,
shemsu,
with powers beyond imagination. She wanted to stay and learn about the followers of Set-Sutekh, about their way of life and their awesome magic. She had no doubt that if she left the oasis she would never find it again, even if she wished to. Like Shangri-la, it would doubtless disappear into the sands of oblivion and the mists of time. As an ethnographer, she couldn't imagine passing up this unparalleled opportunity.

And then there was Shahin. She desperately wanted to stay with him, too. She wanted nothing more than to explore the incredible feelings he inspired in her. Experience more of them. Find new ones.

It was dangerous to stay. She knew that. Without a doubt, the most dangerous thing she would ever do in her life. But she just couldn't make herself leave.

Not yet.

Opening her eyes, she let out a long, even exhale. But there was one thing she should do.
Must
do. Soon. Before Shahin returned.

Josslyn must be warned of the danger
she
was in.

Gemma stood, went over to the antique writing desk that sat against one wall of the tent, and found a box of thick parchment stationery and a pen. She wrote Joss an urgently worded missive.

 

Reading it over, she underlined
Now!
three times for good measure, then folded up the note and tucked it into an envelope. But how to get it to Joss?

Searching over the contents of the tent again, her gaze stalled on a camel bag slung over the back of a chair. Making a quick decision, she grabbed it.

Hurriedly she got dressed and slipped from the tent. She'd seen approximately where the boy had taken her mare last night and she headed that way, skirting several tents, pausing whenever she heard hushed voices until she could identify where they came from and avoid meeting anyone.

She found her horse a short way along the oasis, penned in a grassy corral next to a small pond. Its youthful caregiver lay sleeping by the fence, rolled in a colorful blanket and snoring lightly.

Cautiously, she approached the corral. Bint nickered softly in greeting, and Gemma's heart raced, praying the boy wouldn't wake.

“Shh,” she whispered, running her hand along the mare's mane.

The boy murmured and turned in his blanket. Gemma held her breath, her pulse leaping. But he didn't open his eyes.
Thank God.

The night was cool, but sweat beaded on her brow as she looped the camel bag containing her note around Bint's neck, tied it securely and eased
the corral gate open, inch by slow inch. The dark sky had already started to glow pink along the tops of the dunes. She led the horse to just beyond the edge of the camp that lay on the side of the coming sunrise and the Nile Valley. The mare would find her way home, if not by instinct, then by the smell of the river. With any luck, before she was discovered missing.

She gave Bint a kiss on her rough cheek and a smack on the rear to launch her into a gallop. And prayed her messenger would make it home.

After carefully brushing the hoof prints from the sand with a palm frond, Gemma swiftly ran back to Shahin's tent, got undressed and slid back into bed. And hoped to God the man was just a shape-shifter and not a mind reader as well.

 

“Where have you been?”

Shahin had been quiet when he entered, but Gemma must have been awake and waiting for him to return. He wondered briefly whether he should be surprised she'd stayed in his bed rather than trying to flee. Not that it would have done her any good. He knew exactly where she'd have gone—the villa. And now that they'd made love, he'd be able to get a sense of her presence, wherever she went. He was pleased she realized the futility of escape.

“I had some things to do,” he said, unbuckling the belt that held his scimitar.

“Josslyn?” she asked.

He could hear the worry in her voice, but he didn't want to discuss the sister with her. Down that road lay discord. “No. I am captain of the guards of Khepesh. We are on the brink of war and there is much to do.”

“War?” She sat up in bed, holding the coverlet over her breasts. He didn't like that. He wanted to see her.

His body stirred as he walked toward her shedding his clothes. “With Haru-Re, the high priest of the Sun God Re-Horakhti,” he explained, “and his followers.” He got into bed and gathered her in his arms, pulling her down on top of him.

“But that's terrible,” she said, her voice even more worried. She didn't resist him, but she didn't drop the conversation either. “Why war?”

“It is a long-standing battle,” he said impatiently, driving his fingers through her hair and bringing her mouth to his. “Forget it. We have far pleasanter things than war to think about at the moment.”

After a few seconds' hesitation, he felt her tension ease. “Such as?” she asked coyly.

He fisted his cock and fitted it to her as he urged her to straddle him. It was a rare day he let a woman dominate him, but for some reason it didn't feel that way with Gemma.

“This,” he said, and whispered a command into her mouth. Graphic. Unambiguous. Forceful.

Her body shivered and she softly moaned his name. His heart hitched at the breathless sound of it on her lips. The emotion it contained sounded so honest and true. But it wasn't. It couldn't be.

He was in complete control as he thrust up into her, eliciting a groan of pleasure from deep in her throat.

It was the first of many.

When he was finished with her, they were both slick from exertion and panting with blissful completion. She collapsed in a heap across his chest.

“Keep doing this,” she said on a half moan, half sigh, “and making me stay with you here won't be a problem. It'll be impossible to get me to leave.”

He smiled. “Good.” He wrapped his arms around her and prepared to grab a short catnap before taking off for his morning task. “I'm glad we're in complete agreement.”

But he never got the chance for sleep. A loud call and an insistent scratching sounded at the outside door. Alarm coursed through his mind as he rolled out of bed, grabbing his trousers. No one would dare disturb him this morning unless it was an urgent matter.

“What?” he barked, shoving aside the curtained
tent flap. He was surprised to see Hasim standing there, hopping from one foot to the other.

“My lord! She is gone!” the boy cried.

Shahin frowned. He knew very well Gemma was
not
gone. “Who?”

“Madam's mare,” Hasim burst out, the explanation rushing from his mouth like a sandstorm. “The horse is nowhere to be found! It's all my fault! I'm sorry, my lord! She must have gotten loose last night. I swear I didn't mean to fall asleep—”

Shahin held up his hand and the verbal torrent ceased abruptly. “You've searched for the mare?”

“Yes! Everywhere, sir!”

This was not good. “Tracks?”

“They are going toward the east.”

Home to the villa.
He cursed. “Summon a few of the men. We must try and intercept the animal before it reaches Josslyn Haliday.”

The boy dashed off and Shahin ducked back into his tent, waving a hand to light a couple of the sconce torches. He could easily see in the dark, but he wanted Gemma to be able to see him when he questioned her.

But she looked so temptingly disheveled, so drowsily content curled up naked in the center of his bed, that his tongue could not bring itself to break the harmony between them with the accusations
echoing in his mind. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe she had nothing to do with this.

“Leaving again?” she asked sleepily when he began to dress.

“Yes. Go back to sleep,” he told her with a kiss.

In less than three minutes he'd readied himself and strode outside to meet his men. The last thing he did was to throw a spell of containment over the tent to prevent her from leaving. She might appear innocent, but he was no fool. Then he and his men shifted and flew like the wind to the villa.

But it was too late.

When they arrived, the missing horse was in the stable, contentedly munching on straw.

And Josslyn Haliday had already fled.

A thorough search of the villa revealed only one clue. But it was enough. On the floor next to the sofa lay a familiar camel bag. Shahin's
own
camel bag.

There was just one explanation possible for its presence here.
Gemma.

Fury surged through his veins. For this, she would pay, and pay dearly.