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Under A Desert Moon
Laura Martin


EMMA KNIGHT’S WISH LIST:1. To realise a lifelong dream to travel to the magnificent Egyptian desert.2. To locate an undiscovered tomb by following her father’s ancient map.3. To avoid all men, especially charming ones – experience tells her they’re the most dangerous!Emma needs a guide to fulfil her quest, but treasure-hunter Sebastian Oakfield is the last person she would choose! He’s charming, he’s arrogant, and his roguish grin makes Emma want to throw caution to the wind. Maybe one night of pure indulgence should be put on her wish list after all… !









‘It’s lovely and cool. Why don’t you come in?’


Emma looked at him as though he were mad.

‘Come in?’ she asked. ‘With you?’

He nodded. He was already regretting the invitation. It had just slipped out—a manifestation of his subconscious and the part of him that wanted her naked in the water with him.

‘That would be scandalous.’

Seb shrugged. ‘There’s no one here to tell.’

Emma looked around her, just to confirm they were alone.

‘I won’t look as you get in,’ Seb said. ‘On my honour.’

Emma slipped off her heavy boots and cautiously dipped a toe into the water. Seb could tell it must feel heavenly against her skin as she sighed and closed her eyes.

‘I suppose if you stick to your half …’

Seb grinned. She was coming in. He knew he should be a gentleman and insist he get out, then turn his back whilst she bathed, but he wasn’t that strong a man. He wanted there to be nothing more than the cool water between their bodies.

‘Turn around,’ Emma said. ‘And no peeking.’




AUTHOR NOTE


Egypt has always seemed one of the most romantic of countries to me. Steeped in history, it is a country of extremes, with the lush lands surrounding the Nile contrasting starkly with the barren desert. Ever since visiting Egypt I’ve wanted to return. I want to gaze again on the magnificent temples, the hidden tombs, and soak up the culture and atmosphere of such an inspiring country. In writing Under a Desert Moon I got my opportunity to return at least in mind—if not in body.

I decided to set Under a Desert Moon in the late Regency period because, to me, this was an exciting time for Egyptian archaeology. Tutankhamun’s tomb was still over half a century away from being discovered, but the wider world was just beginning to become interested in the secrets Egypt’s past had to offer. European academics and archaeologists had just started to arrive in Egypt and bring with them the curiosity of their countrymen back home. It was a time when anything could happen; tombs and temples that no one had set foot in for thousands of years were being unearthed.

I couldn’t think of a more perfect setting for Seb and Emma’s blossoming romance.


Under a

Desert Moon

Laura Martin




www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


LAURA MARTIN writes historical romances with an adventurous undercurrent. When not writing she spends her time working as a doctor in Cambridgeshire, where she lives with her husband. In her spare moments Laura loves to lose herself in a book, and has been known to read cover to cover in a single day when the story is particularly gripping. She also loves to travel, especially visiting historical sites and far-flung shores.


For Mum, for all those holidays and trips to see piles of old rocks.

And for Luke. You make me love you more every single day.


Contents

Cover (#u3b850874-c0c2-5ede-ba92-c3b101283ada)

Introduction (#u79d9479f-9dca-55c8-b098-10fa27040091)

Author Note (#ubc0f1b92-c33f-5670-99fb-92562a6501e9)

Title Page (#u42bbd779-8bf7-5ea2-b238-ca42496216cd)

About the Author (#u0ffa4a74-5119-5637-9caa-c3f4395699b5)

Dedication (#uf416418a-be23-567c-ab8d-a7f1059b896e)

Chapter One (#u4b388132-914f-5db2-b05c-567c7b4ad021)

Chapter Two (#u23f95eee-5c9f-5319-81c1-cded0ef4fd99)

Chapter Three (#uedd628d0-b3c4-53fc-9b4e-6d72ce617ee2)

Chapter Four (#u157af9d2-c7f4-56b8-ad8e-d3c9aab8e666)

Chapter Five (#u7590c3a3-fcc3-523e-9a5b-3a611f9e70dc)

Chapter Six (#u691e038d-4132-5a9f-af14-af0bdc8e92b6)

Chapter Seven (#ub1b5d2a6-1d94-5dc1-acf2-b780e4d2c984)

Chapter Eight (#uc90207a8-5ebe-5c84-b0b6-8487c93eefbd)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirty (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirty-One (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter One (#ulink_41ef4065-3458-573e-92d9-eda06d134889)

Emma leaned over the side of the boat and allowed her fingers to trail across the surface of the water. It was cool against her skin, a refreshing sensation in the heat of the afternoon sun.

‘Careful,’ Ahmed said gently. ‘You wouldn’t want the crocodiles to bite those fingers off.’

Emma withdrew her fingers from the water immediately and peered suspiciously into the murky depths. She glanced at Ahmed and wondered if the older man was teasing her. She knew the Nile was overrun with the vicious reptiles, but surely one wouldn’t be bold enough to approach their little group of feluccas.

‘Crocodiles are fearless creatures,’ Ahmed said, as if reading her mind. ‘They’ve been known to attack flotillas if the temptation is right.’

Emma shifted away from the side of the felucca and forced her gaze up from the water.

‘Only a few more minutes,’ Ahmed said, settling back in the shade and closing his eyes. ‘Keep watching the left bank.’

She scanned the sloping bank for any sign of civilisation. They were only an hour away from Cairo, their final destination, but for now Emma was much more interested in what lay around the next bend in the river.

‘The Temple of Horus,’ she whispered, as they rounded the natural curve and the rolling landscape gave way to the sharp lines of a man-made structure. It was magnificent. The sand-coloured columns rose skywards and as they drew closer she could even see statues of the hawk-headed god Horus flanking the entrance to the temple.

‘Have we not got time to stop?’ Emma asked wistfully, already knowing the answer to her question.

They had been sailing down the Nile for ten days, a trip that was only meant to take eight. The owner of this little group of feluccas had been patient at first, indulging her requests that they stop at each ruined monument that sat near the river, but she knew he would not tolerate any further delay.

Ahmed spoke to the owner in rapid Arabic whilst Emma tried to plaster her most gracious smile on her face.

She followed the heated exchange and only let out the breath she had been holding when Ahmed returned, shaking his head.

‘He says no. Regretfully they cannot make any more stops.’

Emma doubted he had been that polite.

‘But it’s the Temple of Horus,’ she argued.

‘You will have plenty of time to visit temples and tombs, sitt,’ Ahmed said, using the Arabic title of respect to address her. ‘This is just the beginning.’

Emma knew he was right, but still she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the majestic temple. This was her dream, her fantasy. Whilst other girls had dreamed of rich husbands and fancy titles, Emma had longed for the exotic. Her father was a celebrated Egyptologist and for many years he’d lived in Cairo. Throughout Emma’s childhood he’d regaled her with tales of the pharaohs, myths about the Egyptian gods and descriptions of the modern-day Egypt. For all her life Emma had wanted to see it all for herself, and now she was here.

Instinctively Emma’s fingers closed around the delicate scroll that was hidden in the folds of her skirt. She would have her adventure soon enough, and the Temple of Horus would pale in comparison to the delights she would discover when she followed the map on the scroll.

A movement in the distance caught her eye and Emma squinted into the late afternoon sun. Something was moving at great speed through the temple. She sat a little straighter and strained her eyes, trying to work out exactly what it was.

A man. She was sure of it. There was a man running through the temple at such a speed it was as though his life depended on it. She looked around to see if anyone else had noticed. Ahmed was doing his best impression of a man asleep and the owner of the felucca was looking ahead, ignoring the spectacular temple to his left.

Emma watched as the figure sprinted out between two statues of Horus and started to slide down the bank towards the river. A second later it became apparent why he was running so fast. Six men, dressed in the traditional long white robes of the Egyptians, exploded out of the temple’s entrance, shouting in Arabic and gesturing angrily. Emma was surprised to see they all had long, curved swords, which they were brandishing in the air in a rather alarming manner.

The first man had reached the bottom of the slope and took a second to glance over his shoulder. His pursuers were just starting the descent. In a matter of seconds they would be upon him. He looked from left to right, seeming to realise he was running out of options. Suddenly he looked up slightly and his eyes met Emma’s over the shimmering surface of the Nile. He paused, grinned and winked at her.

Emma’s eyes widened. She didn’t think she’d ever been winked at before. She knew she should be affronted but she couldn’t tear her gaze away from the man. She watched as he tucked whatever he was carrying into his satchel and dived into the fast-flowing waters of the Nile.

Emma held her breath. It seemed as if he was under the water for ages and she scanned the surface for any sign of life. Panic gripped her as she wondered if he’d been swept away by the current, or, worse, eaten by a crocodile. She redoubled her efforts in looking, dreading the thought that she might see a crimson slash of blood stain the blue waters of the Nile.

‘Permission to come aboard?’ a low voice asked close to her ear.

Emma jumped so much she nearly fell overboard.

She looked down, surprised to see the man she had been watching for had surfaced so close to the boat. He must have swum the entire way under the water.

He grinned at her and she found herself smiling back.

With strong arms he hauled himself up over the side of the felucca and collapsed onto the deck.

Mohammed, the owner of the felucca, was by his side in a second and Emma let out a little gasp of surprise as he drew his sword and held it to the man’s throat.

‘Filthy English grave robber,’ he said in heavily accented English. ‘I should throw you back overboard and let the crocodiles have you.’

‘You will not,’ Emma said, surprising herself with the force of her voice.

Mohammed, Ahmed and the Englishman turned to her in surprise.

‘You heard the lady,’ the Englishman said. ‘I have a protector.’

Emma’s eyes narrowed. She thought she’d detected a hint of amusement in his voice.

Mohammed snorted. ‘I should slit you from throat to belly and watch your thieving guts spill out.’

Emma stepped forward, but she felt Ahmed’s hand on her arm, restraining her.

‘It would make rather a mess,’ the Englishman mused. ‘And you’d be the one scrubbing the deck.’

Emma had never seen someone with a sword to their throat before, but she rather thought normally people in fear for their lives didn’t joke quite as much.

For a few long seconds Mohammed and the Englishman stared at each other, then they both broke out into wide grins.

‘It seems you owe me your life, Oakfield,’ Mohammed said as he clapped the dripping Englishman on the back.

‘Shall we call it even?’

‘You know each other?’ Emma asked, feeling the colour rise in her cheeks.

‘Alas, it is true. As much as I am loath to admit it, I have been known to associate with this lowlife,’ Oakfield said.

Emma snorted. ‘I think it is probably Mohammed who is ashamed to associate with you.’

The Englishman laughed. He stepped forward, closing the distance between them. He took her hand in his own and raised it to his lips.

‘Sebastian Oakfield at your service, madame.’

As he lifted his head he looked directly into her eyes and Emma felt something tighten in her stomach. His eyes were a vivid green, a colourful splash against his bronzed skin and sandy blond hair. Emma could see he had tiny lines around his eyes; he was obviously a man who liked to smile a lot.

‘Please relinquish the sitt’s hand,’ Ahmed said, stepping closer.

Sebastian turned to Ahmed as if seeing him for the first time but still did not drop Emma’s hand.

‘Please forgive my forwardness,’ he said, not looking in the least bit repentant. ‘But it is not often you get a woman with beauty to rival Nefertiti sailing down the Nile.’

The compliment brought Emma to her senses. She slid her hand from his and took a step back, trying to look unaffected by his honeyed words. She reminded herself she wasn’t a young, inexperienced girl any longer. She was a woman of twenty-five. And although she might not have much worldly experience she knew better than to believe the insincere compliments of a rogue. Maybe once...but no longer.

‘Step away from my guests, scoundrel,’ Mohammed said, swatting Sebastian on the shoulder. ‘They don’t want to be harassed by the likes of you.’

‘Young ladies don’t want to be courted by dashing and adventurous gentlemen?’ Sebastian said, speaking to Mohammed but his eyes wandering to Emma.

‘How do you know this man?’ Ahmed asked Mohammed, trying to push his way between the dripping-wet new arrival and Emma.

Emma took a step forward; she didn’t want to miss this story.

The glint of humour left Mohammed’s eyes and he said seriously, ‘I owe my life to Mr Oakfield—without him I would be nothing more than a carcass in the desert.’

Emma glanced at Mr Oakfield, who seemed a little uncomfortable about this revelation. He seemed to be the sort of man who didn’t take sincere compliments well, preferring to laugh them off.

‘Three years ago, I was attacked by a group of bandits in the desert. They took my money and my clothes and my horse. They left me to try to make my journey on foot—a feat for a man even half my age. Mr Oakfield found me and brought me to safety.’ Mohammed paused, as if there was more to the story. ‘And he helped me to track down the bandits, who are now languishing in Cairo’s most grim prison.’

Mohammed smiled quickly, then turned back to take control of his flotilla. Emma was just about to say something when a shout from the bank of the Nile made everyone turn to look. The six men in white billowing robes had now reached the water’s edge and were gesticulating angrily in their direction. None of them, however, seemed prepared to get wet.

‘What have you done, Mr Oakfield?’ Emma asked, her curiosity finally getting the better of her. He must have done something extremely reckless to be chased by six very angry-looking men with swords.

‘You mean apart from losing my heart to the most enchanting woman north of the Equator?’

‘You’ve just met me, Mr Oakfield. I hope you’re not one of those foolish men who believes in love at first sight.’

‘Foolish, lovesick...’

Emma heard herself snort again. Mr Oakfield didn’t seem to bring out her most ladylike side.

‘Did you knock your head when you dived into the Nile?’

He looked as though he was about to deny it.

‘I sincerely hope you did,’ she murmured.

‘May we start again?’ Sebastian asked.

Emma gave a gracious nod.

‘Sebastian Oakfield, at your service, madame.’

‘And tell me, Mr Oakfield, what made you risk life and limb diving into one of the most dangerous rivers in the world?’

Sebastian grinned at her and Emma found her disapproving facade waver. He was a very good-looking man. With an infectious smile. A disarmingly infectious smile.

‘I’m so glad you asked, Miss...?’

‘Knight. Emma Knight.’

‘Miss Knight,’ he repeated, his voice low, and Emma knew immediately it was the voice he used with his lovers. A shiver ran down her spine despite the warmth of the late afternoon sun. ‘Would you like to see something spectacular?’

Emma allowed him to take her by the hand and lead her over to the scattered cushions she had been sitting on before he’d boarded the felucca. He sat down and gestured for her to sit beside him. Ignoring Ahmed’s tut of disapproval, Emma sank into the cushions. She found she was holding her breath as Sebastian reached into the bag he had over his shoulder and pulled out an object that fitted neatly in the palm of his hand.

‘Here,’ he said, placing the heavy stone object in her hand.

Emma turned it over in her palm and studied it carefully. It was beautiful. It was made of a rock that she didn’t recognise, the stone a dark grey in colour, and it was carved into a figure of a man. The features were still visible on his face and the details of his elaborate headdress were obvious even after all these years.

‘It’s a—’

‘Shabti,’ Emma interrupted.

Sebastian looked at her appraisingly.

‘Late third-century BC, if I’m not mistaken. If I had to hazard a guess, I would say it was from the tomb of a very wealthy man.’

Emma glanced at Sebastian. He was momentarily lost for words. Emma didn’t think it was an occurrence that happened often.

‘How do you know that?’ he asked.

Emma shrugged. ‘I’ve studied a little around the subject.’

That was an understatement. Egyptology had once been a hobby for her, but in the last few years it had become more of an escape. When all else had seemed bleak, Egyptology had been her saviour.

‘How did you come by this piece?’ Emma asked.

Sebastian studied her for a second, as if contemplating whether to tell her the truth.

‘It was just lying around,’ he said with a shrug.

Emma felt acute disappointment. She’d wanted him to be honest with her, no matter how unpalatable the truth. She’d had enough lies from men to last her a lifetime. Here was just another man who lied rather than admit the truth. When they reached Cairo she would put him from her mind, even if she struggled to forget the thrill she experienced when he looked at her and smiled.


Chapter Two (#ulink_c8291757-606b-5b83-ba6b-efdc3a04a62c)

Sebastian leaned in closer to the delectable Miss Knight, raised a hand and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. He felt her stiffen at the contact and shift farther away from him. He frowned. If Sebastian was good at anything in life, it was reading other people’s expressions and mannerisms. A few minutes earlier, when he had first introduced himself, he’d detected a spark of desire in Miss Knight’s eyes. Now she was positively frosty. He wondered exactly what he’d done to bring about this change.

‘It’s a well-preserved piece,’ Emma said, tracing her thumb over the Shabti in her hand. ‘I’m sure it’s worth a lot of money.’

A good few hundred pounds. Enough to keep him in business for months to come.

‘And such historical value. It’s a shame, really,’ she mused.

‘A shame?’

‘That it will end up on the bottom of the Nile.’

With a swift movement she leant over the edge of the felucca and held the Shabti above the water.

He lunged forward, catching her wrist in his hand. Her fingers still gripped the artefact but it would only take one movement to send it to the bottom of the river, never to be seen again.

‘I don’t like being lied to,’ she said.

Sebastian almost laughed. She was doing this because he’d lied to her?

‘How did you come to be in possession of such a piece?’

He shifted slightly, aware his body was pressed up against hers in a most delightful manner. If he wasn’t careful, her protective old bodyguard would have a sword up against his throat for bad behaviour.

‘I had a scroll,’ he said. ‘It hinted at the location of a chamber under the Temple of Horus.’

He saw the interest flash in her eyes and he relaxed. Here was a woman who loved Egypt. She wouldn’t destroy a piece of its history by dropping it into the Nile.

‘I spent a week searching for it and today I got lucky.’

‘And the men who were chasing you?’ she asked.

He shrugged. ‘They’d noticed my sustained interest in the temple and were out to take the Shabti for themselves. The market for genuine ancient Egyptian artefacts is one where demand is greater than supply. No doubt they worked for one of the more underhand antiquities dealers in Cairo.’

‘Was there anything else in the chamber?’

He could hear the excitement in her voice and found her excitement enthusing him. He let go of her wrist and leant back, relaxing.

‘The entrance was hidden under a huge stone slab. Once I managed to move it to one side, it revealed a narrow staircase.’

He watched as Emma unconsciously brought her hand back over the side of the boat and cradled the artefact between her fingers. Her eyes were alight with a passion he knew was reflected in his own when talking about archaeology.

‘I had to take a flaming torch down the stairs to illuminate the chamber below. The flickering light revealed the most wonderful paintings all over the walls.’

‘Were they colourful?’ Emma asked.

He nodded.

She looked back towards the Temple of Horus wistfully.

‘All the paintings I’ve seen whilst I’ve been in Egypt have been exposed to the elements,’ she explained. ‘The colours have faded. I’d love to see something so well preserved.’

Seb nearly found himself promising to take her to see the chamber below the Temple of Horus, but thankfully stopped himself before the words formed on his lips. The last thing he needed was to spend time acting as tour guide for a wide-eyed English lady. She might be a very pretty lady, but she was off-limits. She had that air of the upper class about her, and, although Seb had left the English gentleman part of his persona behind many years ago when he’d left England, he knew better than to dally with an unmarried innocent young woman. As much as he wanted to.

Emma Knight was exactly the kind of young woman his father had been so eager for him to marry all those years ago. Petite, blonde, pretty and innocent. The very embodiment of the saying ‘an English rose’. Seb had refused then, and now he was too old and worldly-wise to get himself in trouble over a pretty face and an enthusiastic smile.

‘I would offer to take you to the chamber,’ Seb said smoothly, ‘but unfortunately I’m not sure I’d be welcome.’

She nodded, clearly disappointed to have missed such a well-preserved slice of Egypt.

‘The chamber had a few statues dotted around, and on a raised stone platform was that Shabti.’

Emma glanced down to the Shabti in her hands, running her fingers over the engravings one last time before holding it out to him.

‘Thank you,’ he said, slipping the artefact back into his bag.

‘Will you sell it?’ Emma asked.

He nodded.

‘I would find it so hard to part with something so beautiful.’

Seb shrugged. Once, many years ago, he’d felt the same, but he couldn’t afford to be sentimental now. He had a business to run, and employees who relied on him to sell the artefacts they found, not become attached to them.

Mohammed shouted from the front of the boat and pointed ahead of them.

‘Cairo,’ Seb explained. ‘Is it your first visit?’

Emma nodded, her eyes widening with excitement.

‘You won’t want to miss this.’

Seb stood and held out his hand to help Emma rise to her feet. They moved to the edge of the felucca and watched the city take shape before their eyes.

Ten years ago when Seb had left England he’d been directionless, moving from place to place. He hadn’t known where he would settle or how he would make a living. He’d sailed down the Nile in a felucca very much like this one and when he’d caught his first glimpse of Cairo he’d known he was home.

‘It’s beautiful,’ Emma said.

Seb had heard Cairo being called many things but beautiful wasn’t the usual response. Most people fresh from the rolling green hills of England thought Cairo was dirty and dusty. Only a few saw the gem nestled in the desert, the charm of the whitewashed buildings and the narrow streets.

‘This is only the beginning,’ he said quietly to Emma.

She turned to him, the enthusiasm evident on her face.

‘I want to see it all,’ she said. ‘I can’t believe I’m actually here.’

Seb watched her as she looked out at the dusty city. He wondered what this well-brought-up young lady was doing so far away from home. There were plenty of Europeans in Cairo—the West had become interested in what Egypt had to offer in the last few years—but you didn’t see many unmarried, basically unchaperoned young women out here on their own.

He glanced at Emma’s elderly protector. He was originally from Egypt, if Seb wasn’t much mistaken. He watched his young mistress like a hawk, but Seb doubted he would be much use if she actually got herself into a dangerous situation. And he didn’t think Miss Emma Knight was the retiring kind of woman who kept herself out of danger well.

‘What are your plans when we reach Cairo?’ Seb asked.

For the first time since he’d met her, Seb noticed a veil come down over Emma’s expression. She glanced at him warily.

‘We will be staying with Colonel and Mrs Fitzgerald,’ she said after a few seconds. ‘They were friends of my father and have promised to help me arrange some trips to see different temples and tombs.’

Intriguing. If he wasn’t much mistaken she had a hidden agenda, something she didn’t want him to know about.

‘Mrs Fitzgerald is at the centre of the Cairo social scene.’

Emma looked at him quizzically. ‘There’s a Cairo social scene?’

He laughed. ‘Nothing like what you’d be used to in London, I’m sure.’

‘Are you part of this social scene?’

Seb glanced at her again. Anyone else with that question he would have assumed was flirting with him, but Emma’s face was free from guile. She was just genuinely interested.

‘The runaway son of an English lord? I’m the guest of honour at most of these events. The community here does love a little bit of scandal.’

He saw her face fall as he said the word scandal and wondered if Emma was running from something back home, too. He couldn’t imagine the woman in front of him being embroiled in anything worth gossiping about. She was too open, too sweet in nature.

He didn’t have time to enquire further. Mohammed shouted a request and immediately Seb was on his feet, helping his old friend guide the felucca into the jetty.

Seb breathed in the smell of the city. He felt at home in Cairo. He loved going on trips around Egypt, searching for lost temples or tombs, seeking the pharaohs’ treasures of old, but he felt most happy in Cairo.

Once the felucca was secured Seb waited whilst Ahmed and Emma got ready to disembark.

‘There’s a bit of a gap,’ he said. ‘Watch you don’t fall.’

Emma gathered her skirts in her hand and lifted her foot to step over the side of the felucca. Seb could see she was going to trip before her foot even met the wood. She stumbled, careening towards the water. Instinctively he leant forward and swept her into his arms. He lifted her over the side of the boat and set her gently down on the wooden jetty. Her body was pressed against his and he could feel she was trembling slightly. She looked up at him, her blue eyes sparkling in the sun, and her lips parted a little.

Seb felt his head dip towards hers slowly. One arm was looped around her waist, holding her close to him. The other hand reached up, brushed a strand of hair from her forehead and tucked it behind her ear. It was an intimate act, and Seb could feel Emma’s body responding to him. In that instant she wanted to be kissed. And he wanted to kiss her. But he wasn’t stupid enough to act on his urges.

Reluctantly Seb released her. Emma’s head dipped low, her eyes refusing to meet his, and he saw the first tint of a blush colouring her cheeks.

‘Thank you for catching me,’ she said, looking up at him again.

Seb swallowed. She was everything he couldn’t have, and right now she was everything he wanted.


Chapter Three (#ulink_d40e2358-662f-5213-bc50-ee149e427b62)

‘It’s far too dangerous for a gently bred young woman to be gallivanting off into the wilds of Egypt without a proper escort,’ Mrs Fitzgerald said. There were murmurs of agreement from the other guests around the table.

‘I wouldn’t be on my own, I’d have Ahmed with me,’ Emma protested.

‘Still, it’s not right. If I allowed you to risk yourself in such a way, your dear papa would never forgive me.’

Emma resisted the urge to point out her dear papa was dead. And that he’d spent most of his youth dragging her mother from camp to camp to study this or that new Egyptian discovery.

‘Really you’d be much better to stay in Cairo with us,’ Mrs Fitzgerald said. ‘We can help arrange for you to have a tour of the new Museum of Antiquities. And you can get up close to the pyramids.’

Emma nodded and tried to look enthusiastic. She was sure Cairo had a lot to offer her. She had been staring at paintings of the pyramids for years, dreaming of the day she’d see them for herself, but this was her adventure and she wasn’t going to let Mrs Fitzgerald stand in her way of seeing the more inaccessible parts of Egypt.

‘Don’t you agree, dear?’ Mrs Fitzgerald turned to her husband, who was sitting quietly next to Emma.

‘Yes, of course,’ he said, not looking up from his plate. ‘Far too dangerous.’

Mrs Fitzgerald nodded triumphantly and promptly changed the subject.

‘I’ll put you in touch with just the chap to be your guide,’ Colonel Fitzgerald said to Emma quietly. She glanced at him but he hadn’t moved at all. She suspected his wife would not forgive him for going against her advice.

‘Thank you,’ Emma whispered.

‘So how long are you out here, Miss Knight?’ a portly older gentleman Emma thought might have been called Sir Henry asked her.

‘At least a couple of months,’ she said. ‘My father talked of Egypt and Cairo incessantly when I was young. Now that he’s gone, I want to experience everything he told me about.’

‘Shame a young girl like you hasn’t got a husband to take her around the sights,’ Sir Henry said, wiggling his eyebrows in a way Emma suspected he thought was suggestive.

She tried not to bristle and reminded herself to keep calm. She was twenty-five, past marriageable age in the eyes of the social circles she moved in. A few years ago comments like Sir Henry’s would have hurt her, made her feel inadequate, but Emma had become hardened to them now. She knew she would never marry, never have the family she had once craved. Now she just let the comments and questions wash over her, and tried not to be too upset when she mulled them over in her mind later on.

‘You might be well away from the first flush of youth, but I’m sure many men would still want you. Especially men of the older variety.’

Now Emma knew he was proposing himself. She looked him over and tried not to grimace. She’d rather be alone. It wasn’t that she thought physical appearance was everything. No, she’d rather have a kind heart and charitable spirit over a chiselled jaw and firm muscles any day, but she thought she should be at least a little physically attracted to any potential spouse.

‘Miss Knight decided not to marry after the incident,’ Mrs Fitzgerald said in a loud whisper.

Emma felt the heat start to creep into her face and looked around for some means of escape. It wasn’t that she’d decided not to marry, in fact she’d been certain she was going to get married. It was her liar of a fiancé who’d had other plans.

‘Ah, yes, such a shame,’ Sir Henry said. ‘But the right man might overlook that little indiscretion.’

Emma smiled blandly and wondered if she could pretend to faint. Or vomit onto her dinner plate. Anything to get her away from this conversation.

‘We’ve all made mistakes, after all. Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.’ Sir Henry leaned in towards Emma and gave her an encouraging smile.

Emma glanced around, trying desperately to find some way to end this conversation. Her father had once warned her people were less subtle in Egypt. They would say things to your face rather than whisper them behind your back. He said it was because the English community out there was so small, so intimate. At the time Emma had thought it would be refreshing, not to have people whispering about her behind her back, but now she would give anything not to discuss her tainted past with people she’d only met a few hours before.

‘Would you do me the honour of dancing with me?’ Colonel Fitzgerald asked suddenly.

Emma could have hugged him.

‘But we haven’t yet had dessert,’ his wife protested.

‘I’m sure dessert will be waiting for us when we return,’ the colonel said.

He rose and offered his hand to Emma.

‘But your heart...’ Mrs Fitzgerald said.

‘Nothing wrong with my heart.’

Emma stood and allowed the elderly colonel to lead her onto the dance floor.

‘Thank you,’ she said quietly as they joined the four other couples moving slowly across the floor.

The colonel nodded gruffly. ‘They’ll have moved on by the time we sit back down.’

He was right. When the dance was over Emma returned to her place at the table and was pleased to find conversation had turned to a dig a few miles outside Cairo.

‘There’s rumour it could be the big one itself. Rameses.’

There was a moment of silence around the table as everyone considered what a celebration there would be if Rameses’ tomb was uncovered.

The conversation continued and Emma turned towards Colonel Fitzgerald and listened to him discussing the fake artefacts flooding the market and deceiving well-intentioned amateur collectors back in England. As he spoke Emma glanced towards the door and felt her heart jump in her chest. Striding through the wide doorway, looking as though he’d just been blown in from the desert, was Sebastian Oakfield.

He caught her staring at him and winked, making the blood rush to Emma’s cheeks. She forced herself not to look away or bury her head as she wanted to, but instead gave a nod of acknowledgement before slowly turning back to the colonel.

She didn’t know why he affected her in such a way. They’d met only briefly. She couldn’t deny he was charming, but the fact that he was a practised charmer should have had her running for the hills even if nothing else did.

Emma risked another glance over her shoulder and almost fell off her chair as she realised he was making a beeline for their table.

‘Miss Knight,’ he said, his voice low and seductive. ‘What a pleasure to see you again.’

He turned his smile on the rest of the company and Emma felt momentarily bereft. She shook her head, trying to find the sense that had abandoned her just seconds before.

‘Ladies, what a pleasure. So many beautiful women my eyes don’t know where to look.’

The ladies around the table tittered and giggled, and Emma would have sworn Mrs Fitzgerald even batted her eyelashes at the much younger man.

‘Colonel Fitzgerald, Sir Henry.’ The two men rose and they all shook hands.

‘Why don’t you come and join our little party?’ Mrs Fitzgerald suggested.

Emma stared resolutely at her hands. She wished he wouldn’t join them; she found it hard to keep hold of her normally robust common sense when he was around.

‘I wouldn’t like to intrude...’

‘Nonsense, we’d love for you to join us.’

Not needing any more encouragement, Sebastian grabbed a chair from an empty table and placed it next to Emma’s, forcing Sir Henry farther away.

‘You never mentioned you’d already met Mr Oakfield,’ Mrs Fitzgerald said to Emma.

Sebastian turned to her with a look of shock on his face.

‘You didn’t mention our recent adventure together?’

‘Adventure?’ Mrs Fitzgerald queried, her voice rising an octave.

Emma shot Sebastian a warning look.

‘A most exhilarating adventure,’ Sebastian confirmed.

Emma groaned. There was no way Mrs Fitzgerald was going to let her out of her sight after this.

‘There I was, minding my own business on the banks of the Nile up near the Temple of Horus.’

Emma rolled her eyes involuntarily.

‘Actually, would you like to tell the story, Miss Knight?’ Sebastian asked, motioning for her to continue where he’d left off.

‘I’m not sure I know how it goes,’ Emma said.

Sebastian grinned at her and continued, ‘Well, there I was, minding my own business when I hear a shout and before I know it I’m being chased by forty heavily armed Egyptian bandits.’

Emma felt her breath rush through her lips in disbelief. She fought to keep the smile from her face. It would only encourage him.

‘Are you sure it was only forty, Mr Oakfield?’ Emma asked.

Sebastian cocked his head to one side and pretended to consider. ‘Perhaps you’re right and it was closer to fifty.’ He shrugged. ‘It doesn’t matter. Forty, fifty, four hundred, however many. The end result was a lot of bandits and only one of me.’

Emma glanced around the table. He had them all enthralled.

‘I looked to my left and I looked to my right but there was nowhere to escape. I thought my time had finally come to meet the angels in heaven.’

Emma knew she wasn’t the only one who raised her eyebrows at the idea of Sebastian Oakfield going to heaven.

‘Then, across fifty feet of fast-flowing Nile water, my eyes met those of a heavenly creature and I knew I was saved. I dived into the water and swam until my lungs were about to burst. When I surfaced, Miss Knight encouraged me aboard her felucca.’

Emma remembered it rather differently, but she had to admit Sebastian had a certain way with words.

‘But I wasn’t out of danger yet. The dastardly felucca captain threatened to disembowel me before I could catch my breath. Certain I was about to die, I closed my eyes and waited for the inevitable, but instead I was surprised to find Miss Knight throwing herself in front of the captain’s sword for me.’

Mrs Fitzgerald gasped and Emma groaned quietly. She doubted she’d be allowed to leave her room, let alone Cairo, for the duration of her stay.

‘Miss Knight persuaded the piratical captain to spare my life and deliver me safely to Cairo. I shall be in her debt for ever.’

He turned his attention back to Emma and took her hand, planting a kiss just below her knuckles. His lips were soft against her skin and for a moment Emma felt as if they were the only two in the room. She forgot all the trouble he’d caused her and the curious stares of the Fitzgeralds and their friends. In that moment she was only aware of her heart thumping in her chest, his lips against her skin, and the primal urge that surged up through her, willing him to pull her against him and claim her as his own.

He released her hand and Emma came tumbling back to reality. She smiled at him shakily, wondering whether he had felt the same thrum of desire as she had. She shook her head; of course he hadn’t. He was a man of the world, a charmer—he probably took a different woman to his bed every night. A man like Sebastian Oakfield wouldn’t be affected by a mere kiss on the hand, especially not with an inexperienced woman like herself.

‘Interesting,’ he murmured.


Chapter Four (#ulink_e7acf257-0287-5bbf-9649-280e91c86593)

‘Would you give me the pleasure of this dance, Miss Knight?’ Sebastian asked as the music swelled in the background.

Emma looked at him for a couple of long seconds before replying and for an instant he thought she might refuse.

‘Of course,’ she said and delicately got to her feet.

He led her to the dance floor, using the few seconds it took for them to weave around the tables of the other guests to analyse what had just happened. He’d been joking around, as he always did. He’d seen first a flicker of disapproval in Emma’s eyes, but soon that had transformed to amusement. Then he’d taken her hand in his and brushed his lips against her skin. Kissing a lady’s hand was something he’d done plenty of times, but never before had he felt the same jolt as he had this time, as his lips had met her skin.

Seb glanced about the room. There were plenty of pretty women dotted here and there, many of whom were giving him encouraging smiles. He’d kissed pretty women before, but he’d never felt like this.

Emma reached the dance floor and waited at the edge for him to escort her onto it. He offered her his arm and felt a thrill of pleasure as she slipped her small hand into the crook of his elbow.

She was attractive, Seb couldn’t deny it. Her dazzling blue eyes would hold any man’s attention and her lips were full and pink and just begging to be kissed. Seb cleared his throat quietly and told himself to behave. Yes, Miss Emma Knight was pretty, but the only reason she was affecting him this way was because he knew he couldn’t have her. He’d felt the same when the Egyptian authorities had denied him access to the tombs in the Valley of the Kings. Well, almost.

Glancing at Emma now, he wondered whether he would give up the chance to discover a hundred royal tombs for just one night in her arms.

He grinned. He’d always been prone to fits of romanticism.

‘I didn’t expect to see you again so soon,’ Emma said, clearly trying to make polite conversation as she’d been brought up to do.

‘I followed you here,’ Seb said bluntly.

He tried to keep a straight face as Emma’s expression turned to one of horror.

‘You followed me?’ she asked.

‘Yes, trailed you from the moment we left the dock.’

She frowned warily. ‘So you saw where I went this afternoon?’

He nodded vaguely.

‘You won’t tell the Fitzgeralds I visited the museum without them?’

‘Wouldn’t dream of it. Your secret’s safe with me.’

She looked at him appraisingly for a few seconds then grunted, as if satisfied.

‘You didn’t visit the museum, did you?’ he asked slowly.

‘And you didn’t follow me, did you?’

Seb grinned again. It wasn’t often he came up against anyone who gave as good as they got.

‘I didn’t follow you,’ he admitted in a low whisper. He felt her shiver as he leaned in closer and his breath tickled her ear. ‘I didn’t have to. It’s common knowledge the Fitzgeralds dine at Harcourt’s every Thursday. I knew exactly where to find you.’

She looked at him, clearly wondering whether to believe this version of events.

‘And I suppose you came specially to see me?’

‘Would you believe me if I said I couldn’t get you out of my mind?’ Seb asked.

Emma laughed.

‘You dash all the romance from a fellow,’ he grumbled, pretending to be dejected.

The truth was he had come to Harcourt’s to see her again. Seb had spent the entire afternoon feeling out of control, and if there was one thing he hated it was not being in control. Every time he sat down to translate a document or tally his accounts he would see Emma’s face, the expression of awe as she was enthralled by his description of the Temple of Horus. He kept remembering the way she had felt in his arms and kept imagining the taste of her lips. He regretted not kissing her, not brushing his lips against hers just the once so he could relive the experience at his leisure.

He glanced down at those lips now. They were pursed slightly, as if she were mildly displeased. Emma was frowning, but the twinkle in her eye told Seb that she was only pretending to disapprove.

He spun her in time to the music, marvelling at how easily she kept up. She intrigued him, this petite blonde beauty. He couldn’t understand how she’d ended up in Egypt all on her own. She was pretty, accomplished at dancing, quick-witted. She should have had men clamouring for her hand in marriage. But instead here she was, past the age when most young women had settled down, in a foreign country thousands of miles away from home.

‘I came tonight because I had to know the answer to a question that’s been plaguing me all afternoon,’ Seb said.

Emma cocked her head to one side and waited for him to continue.

‘Why have you come to Egypt?’

The shutters came down again and Emma looked at him warily. It was Seb’s turn to smile encouragingly. He held his breath, not knowing why her answer mattered so much to him.

‘My father,’ she said. ‘He passed away recently. He was an eminent Egyptologist. When I was young he would tell me the most wonderful stories about Egypt. And now...’ She trailed off.

Seb understood. She was trying to relive those memories, get closer to her father.

‘Most young women wouldn’t be brave enough to come to a foreign country on their own.’

She shrugged. ‘My father is dead, I don’t have any close relatives and I’m unlikely ever to get married. The only way I could make the trip was alone.’

Seb pulled her in closer. Unlikely ever to get married? He wondered why. There was nothing wrong with Emma that he could see. In fact he knew men who would give half their fortunes to marry a pretty and accomplished woman. She was becoming more and more intriguing.

Silently he reminded himself not to pry. He knew the value of privacy. When he’d first arrived in Cairo all those years ago, society had been almost obsessed with his reasons for leaving England. It was common knowledge that he and his father had fallen out, but over the years Seb had managed to keep the rest of the details a secret. If Emma wanted to keep her reasons for visiting Egypt close to her chest, then he wouldn’t be the one to pry them from her.

The music stopped and for a few seconds they stood completely still, locked in each other’s arms. Seb could feel the rise and fall of Emma’s chest against him and he knew she wasn’t breathless from the dance. Her lips were a rosy pink and her eyes sparkled in the light. For a moment Seb wanted to sweep her into his arms and carry her off into the night, exploring her body and getting into the closed-off crannies of her mind.

Then reluctantly Emma pulled away and the spell was broken.

‘Thank you for a lovely dance, Mr Oakfield,’ she said.

Seb forced himself to smile nonchalantly, not wanting her to see how much she had affected him.

‘Would you care for a breath of fresh air?’ Seb asked, knowing he was playing with fire.

She regarded him silently for a few seconds, then nodded.

He escorted her outside onto the large terrace. They weren’t alone, which Seb knew he should be grateful for. Emma incited something inside him that he knew he had to be careful of. The last thing he needed was to be caught in a compromising situation with the very proper Miss Knight.

They made their way over to the stone balustrade and Seb watched as Emma rested her elbows on the cool surface and gazed out into the darkness. His eyes wandered over the delicate curve of her jaw up to her rosy pink lips and he felt the first stirrings of desire. His instinct was to pull her into his arms and kiss her, claim her as his own. He almost laughed at the intensity of his feelings.

He dipped his fingers into his pocket and ran the tips over the rugged surface of the Shabti he’d shown to Emma earlier. For a moment he wondered if bringing it here tonight had been a stupid idea.

‘I have a present for you,’ he said, watching as her expression turned to one of intrigue.

Slowly he withdrew the Shabti from his pocket and handed it over.

Emma took the carved stone in her hand and turned it over a couple of times.

‘I couldn’t possibly accept this,’ she said, but her eyes gave away her longing for the artefact.

‘I want you to have it.’

‘But you barely know me.’

It was true, but earlier in the day as they’d sat side by side in the felucca, Seb had seen a passion in Emma’s eyes that he recognised from his own. Owning this Shabti would mean so much to her, and for some reason Seb found himself wanting to make her happy.

‘I can’t accept this,’ Emma repeated, holding out the artefact.

Seb didn’t move a muscle, just looked deep into her eyes and smiled.

‘It would make me happy if you would accept this as a welcoming gift from the country I love so much.’

Emma drew back her hand and once again studied the Shabti. Eventually she gave a slight nod.

‘I will treasure it always.’

Seb knew she spoke the truth.

‘Why are you in Egypt, Mr Oakfield?’ Emma asked suddenly, turning to face him.

Seb grinned, trying to hide the fact that he’d been staring at her lips and fantasising about pulling her up against him.

He supposed her question was fair. He’d asked her what had brought her to Egypt and she’d answered. Now it was his turn to divulge.

He stepped closer. There was still a good foot between their bodies, but he could almost imagine how she would feel in his arms.

‘Why do you think I came to Egypt, Miss Knight?’ he asked, his voice low and seductive.

He saw her swallow, the tiny muscles of her throat contracting in unison as she looked up at him. Then her tongue darted out to moisten her lips and Seb almost groaned. She was enticing, this outwardly prim young woman, and he would bet his year’s income she didn’t know it.

‘I...’ she started, her voice barely more than a whisper, then she seemed to compose herself. ‘I think you came here for the same reasons I did, Mr Oakfield.’

He cocked an eyebrow.

‘For the excitement and the mystery and the quest for knowledge of a civilisation past.’

‘Then you think we are alike?’ he asked, narrowing the gap between them.

She nodded, her eyes not leaving his.

Seb couldn’t help himself. He had to kiss her. Just the once. He couldn’t stop himself.

He dipped his head so their lips were inches apart and watched Emma’s face. Her lips parted ever so slightly when she realised his intention and her breathing became shallow. Her eyes widened, but she didn’t pull away. If anything she swayed slightly towards him.

‘I just need to taste you,’ Seb murmured. ‘Just this once.’

If she’d protested, he would have pulled away. If she’d even looked a little unsure, he would have stopped himself, but if anything she inched even closer to him. In that instant she wanted to be kissed as much as he wanted to kiss her. Tomorrow morning she might regret it—hell, tomorrow morning he might regret it—but right now he knew he had to kiss her.

His lips brushed gently against hers, the touch feather-light. He felt her shudder under his touch and he lightly cupped the back of her head and pulled her closer to him. Emma’s lips parted slightly as Seb deepened the kiss and he dipped his tongue gently into her mouth. She groaned with pleasure and the sound went straight to the core of him.

Seb knew he had to stop. He was kissing a woman he barely knew only a few feet from the gossipmongers of Cairo. With one final brush of the lips he pulled away.

Emma looked even more desirable than before. Her cheeks were tinged pink and her hair had a slightly ruffled appearance.

Glancing over his shoulder to check they hadn’t been observed, Seb took a moment to compose himself. The kiss had meant to satiate his desire for the delectable Miss Emma Knight; instead it had stoked the flames. Now he wanted nothing more than to throw her over his shoulder and take her to his bed.

‘I should apologise,’ he said after a few seconds, ‘But I fear it would be insincere.’

Emma looked at him as though she were still trying to process what had just happened.

‘I can’t apologise for something I don’t regret,’ he said.

Suddenly she shook her head, and looked at him as if she were waking from a dream. Her expression went from one of contentment to one of horror. Lifting a hand to her mouth, she started to back away from him.

‘No, no, no, no, no,’ she was murmuring.

Seb frowned. He’d kissed plenty of women before and not a single one had responded with abject horror.

‘It’s all right,’ he said soothingly. ‘No one saw.’

She shook her head as if he didn’t understand.

‘How could I be so stupid?’ she whispered.

Seb kept quiet; he assumed she was talking more to herself now than to him.

Emma took a couple of deep breaths and closed her eyes for a few seconds. When she reopened them there was a steely focus about her.

‘That was a mistake, Mr Oakfield,’ Emma said in a tone that invited no argument. ‘I would appreciate it if you would leave. I will make your excuses to the Fitzgeralds.’

Seb knew there was no point arguing. The intimacy they’d shared during the kiss had been shattered, and Emma was not going to allow him another opportunity to relive it.

‘Thank you for a lovely evening,’ Seb said quietly, taking her hand in his own and raising it to his lips. He felt a thrill of triumph when she didn’t pull away, but didn’t push his luck any further.

‘Goodbye, Mr Oakfield,’ Emma said with finality.


Chapter Five (#ulink_88d55f9f-e708-5168-a23f-3e657a842c3c)

Emma hadn’t slept. No, that was a lie; she felt as if she hadn’t slept. She’d lain awake for hours tossing and turning, trying to banish Sebastian Oakfield from her mind. Then when she’d finally fallen into a fitful slumber, she’d dreamt about the annoyingly charming man. This morning she felt frustrated and unrefreshed.

She couldn’t believe she’d let him kiss her. She grimaced and silently corrected herself—she couldn’t believe she had kissed him. There was no point denying that she had been an active participant in the kiss. The worst part was that she’d enjoyed it, and she knew if he’d pulled her into a darkened corner and furthered the embrace she would probably have let him, she’d been so caught up in the moment.

Groaning, Emma buried her face in the pillow. She wished she could erase the past twenty-four hours—then she wouldn’t have ever met Sebastian Oakfield, and she would never have kissed him. Or spent the entire night reliving that kiss.

With an effort Emma threw back the light sheet that covered her bed and crossed over to the window. She looked out over the rooftops of Cairo and her mood lifted slightly. Yes, she might have done the exact thing she’d promised herself she’d never do again last night, but this morning she was waking up in Egypt, the land she’d dreamed about for so long.

Emma rested her elbows on the window sill and watched the hustle and bustle of the street below. Men were pushing carts of produce and women were carrying baskets. She wondered if they were headed to the famous Cairo market. Emma yearned to be down there with them, to follow them through the windy streets and explore this exotic city. Momentarily she wished she were a man. Then she’d be free to wander the streets at her leisure, not waiting for a suitable escort and chaperone to take her to only the appropriate sights for a well-brought-up young lady to see. She wanted adventure and freedom, not to have exchanged the constraints of English society for those of an expatriate in Cairo.

A light tap on the door made Emma spin around and she smiled as the young Egyptian maid called Dalila entered the room.

‘Would you like to get dressed, miss?’ the young woman asked in accented English.

Emma nodded, knowing the hour was already late and she shouldn’t waste any more of the day shut away in her room, ruminating over the events of the previous night.

‘Were you born in Cairo?’ Emma asked Dalila as she slipped the dress over her head.

The young maid nodded. ‘I’ve never left Cairo, miss.’

‘What do you think I should see?’ Emma asked. ‘I know the pyramids and the new Museum of Antiquities, but, as someone who’s grown up in Cairo, where do you think a visitor should go to get the authentic feel of the place?’

Dalila paused for a moment, considering. ‘The market,’ she said eventually. ‘Not the tourist antiquities market, but the real thing. Where we go to buy our food and spices. You’ll see everyone from the poorest beggar to the richest housewife.’

Emma allowed the maid to fasten the back of her dress and cocked her head to one side. She wondered if she could persuade Mrs Fitzgerald to take her to the market. She doubted it, but it was worth a try.

Making her way downstairs, Emma realised the hour was later than she’d first imagined. The Fitzgeralds had both already had breakfast, but the colonel was still sitting at the table, sipping strong, dark coffee.

‘Good morning,’ he said genially.

Emma liked Colonel Fitzgerald, even after knowing him for only a day. He was a kind old man. The previous night he had saved her from embarrassment by rescuing her from Sir Henry’s unwanted advances. And he had offered to introduce her to a guide who would take her into the wilds of Egypt.

‘I’m sorry I slept so late,’ Emma said, sitting down at the table. ‘I must have been tired after the journey.’

‘Nonsense,’ he said with a wave of his hand. ‘You are a guest in our house, you can sleep in until whatever time you like.’

He motioned to a young man who darted from the room and within seconds returned with plates of food balanced on his arms. He set them in front of Emma with a flourish and she inspected each dish in turn.

‘We can have the cook make you something more English if you prefer.’

Emma shook her head. Everything looked delicious; she didn’t know where to start.

‘This here is flat bread, served with a bean, onion and tomato dip. Or if you prefer something sweet, the honey and nut pastries are delicious.’

The Egyptian footman returned with a steaming cup of strong coffee and placed it on the table. Then he melted into the background, allowing Emma to make a start on the feast in front of her.

‘What are your plans for today, my dear?’ Colonel Fitzgerald asked after a few minutes.

Emma took a sip of coffee before speaking.

‘I’m not too sure. Mrs Fitzgerald kindly said she would take me to see the pyramids next week. Possibly the Museum of Antiquities.’

Colonel Fitzgerald nodded in agreement.

‘A very interesting place. However, I was thinking we might take advantage of the fact that Mrs Fitzgerald has a charity meeting arranged, so we could organise for that guide to take you deeper into rural Egypt.’

Emma’s eyes lit up immediately. She could feel her pulse quicken at the prospect of exploring Egypt properly, with just a guide for company, discovering long-abandoned temples and following in the footsteps of the Ancient Egyptians.

‘He might take a bit of persuasion—he can be a stubborn man when he wants to—but I’m sure you’ll be able to convince him to be your guide.’

Emma was imagining a weathered old Egyptian who knew every inch of his country.

‘And if that doesn’t work, you can remind him he owes you his life.’

Emma frowned. She opened her mouth to question Colonel Fitzgerald then promptly closed it again. Sebastian. He was talking about Sebastian Oakfield. The man who had rendered her senseless with just one kiss. There was no way she could spend a week with him. Who knew what would happen?

Silently she admonished herself. She was stronger than that. Granted, she had allowed the man to kiss her on their second meeting, but now she was savvy to his charms. She would recognise the fiery look in his eyes and that seductive smile and she would put a halt to any further kisses.

Emma gave a tiny nod. She might have fallen for Sebastian Oakfield’s charm once, but she wouldn’t do it again. Her life had already been ruined by one man who had convinced her kissing and intimacy weren’t wrong; she wouldn’t make the same mistake.

‘We must make sure Mrs Fitzgerald doesn’t get wind of your plans. She’ll crucify us both if she thinks I’ve let you go off unchaperoned into the desert.’

Emma felt herself smile weakly. Maybe Mrs Fitzgerald would have a point.

‘Of course I wouldn’t let you go off gallivanting with anyone. I know Mr Oakfield would do anything to protect your virtue. He’s a good man.’

Emma wanted to ask the colonel to expand on this information but didn’t want to seem too keen.

‘He’s helped me out of one or two scrapes myself,’ Colonel Fitzgerald continued. He lowered his voice before saying more. ‘There was one mission for the army Oakfield assisted us with. A group of bandits had kidnapped the daughter of a very important visitor. Oakfield guided us to their camp in the desert and rescued the girl himself. He’s a handy man to have around in a crisis.’

Emma sensed there was more to the story, some further reason Colonel Fitzgerald trusted Mr Oakfield completely.

‘What’s more,’ the colonel continued, ‘the girl became infatuated with him. Kept throwing herself at him. Oakfield didn’t bat an eyelid. One of the most trustworthy and upstanding men I know.’

Emma thought about their kiss on the balcony and wondered what Colonel Fitzgerald would make of it.

‘He really is the best guide as well,’ Colonel Fitzgerald mused. ‘Can’t think of a single other chap who knows the desert better.’

Emma smiled. If he was the best, then he was the guide for her. Her trip into rural Egypt required someone with good knowledge of the country.

‘Then he sounds like just the man.’ She paused, wondering if she should continue. In the end her curiosity won out. ‘What is it that Mr Oakfield does exactly?’ she asked.

The colonel laughed. ‘No one really knows. He acquires artefacts, brokers deals, translates scrolls. He’s a man with many talents.’

Emma pushed a little further. ‘I wonder what brought him to Egypt in the first place,’ she mused.

‘Some family problem, I think. It’s common knowledge he doesn’t speak to his father. I think it all started with a falling out around the time of his mother’s death. Whatever it was, I’m glad he decided to stop here. He’s a good opponent in cards, and a handy man to have around in a crisis.’

A family problem. Bad debts? An illegitimate child? Emma’s mind started throwing out hundreds of different possibilities.

Emma sipped the last mouthful of coffee before standing.

‘When would be a good time to go and see Mr Oakfield?’ she asked.

‘I will be ready in half an hour. Shall we meet at noon?’

Emma ascended the stairs to the first floor. Her room was at the end of a short corridor. Just as she rounded the corner she heard a soft thud followed by a scraping sound. She froze, then forced herself to continue. The door to her room was slightly ajar. She was sure she’d left it closed. Shaking her head, she reminded herself that Dalila or one of the other maids could be inside right now, cleaning the room. Nevertheless Emma found that her hands were shaking as she pushed open the door.

A figure clad entirely in black flowing robes froze as she entered the room. Emma gasped in shock, all the breath leaving her body in an instant. She tried to scream but found the muscles in her throat had seized up. Instead of an ear-splitting scream a tiny croak escaped her lips.

Instantly the figure was on his feet. With a final glance around the room he vaulted over the small table and out of the window.

Finally galvanised into action, Emma rushed to the window just in time to see her mysterious intruder disappear around the corner.

In shock, Emma sank onto the bed and felt her hands start to shake. She hadn’t managed to get a good look at the intruder—the baggy robes had disguised his build, and all but his dark eyes had been covered on his face—but she knew she’d recognise those eyes if she ever saw them again.

Once she had regained a little of her composure she contemplated calling one of the servants, but quickly dismissed the idea. She knew exactly what the mysterious intruder had been searching for, and luckily she had had the forethought to tuck it into a concealed pocket in her skirt before breakfast. Informing the household of the intruder would just open her up to questions of what he could have been searching for.

Emma’s hand closed around the small scroll in her pocket as she reassured herself it was still there. This was her father’s most treasured possession, and he had bequeathed it to her on his deathbed. For years he had studied the scroll, making notes on the accompanying pieces of paper, deciphering the ancient language and piecing together a location from the obscure references. Emma had wondered whether he had planned one final trip to Egypt before he died.

Quickly she stood and straightened out the room. The intruder hadn’t made much mess—there were just a few papers to be straightened and the sheets on the bed to be smoothed.

After a couple of minutes she looked around the room with satisfaction; no one would know anything untoward had happened here.

Grabbing her parasol and closing the door to her bedroom behind her, Emma realised the incident had made it even more imperative that she find a suitable guide quickly. She didn’t want to put the Fitzgeralds in danger. So if that meant begging Mr Oakfield to be her guide, well, she would have to swallow her pride and do just that.


Chapter Six (#ulink_690f6dfe-db4a-58f2-916d-590e6f7da150)

Seb whistled while he worked. He was in a good mood: he’d found a buyer for his latest acquisition, and today some scrolls he had been waiting for had been delivered to his office. Everything in life was going smoothly.

Well, almost everything. There was the small issue of Miss Emma Knight, the petite Englishwoman who seemed to have bewitched him during their first meeting. Sebastian was a man of the world; he’d flirted and kissed and shared intimate nights with a good number of women. The encounters had always been fun but fleeting. Many years ago he’d realised he would never marry, never have children. It was a choice he had made, and one he made sure the women in his life were well aware of before they became intimate.

Emma was not the sort of woman he should be dallying with. She was obviously from a respectable family, and was the sort a man ought to propose to if he compromised. There was nothing on earth that would convince Seb to get married; he wasn’t going to make the same mistakes his parents had.

Therefore the best solution would be to avoid the very alluring Miss Knight so he didn’t find himself seducing her on dark terraces and wishing for more.

An image of his mother flashed into his mind and he stopped what he was doing momentarily. He missed her. He missed her quiet voice and gentle smiles. Every day he wished he’d been able to persuade her to leave his father, to come away with him and start a new life, free from fear of violence in the one place she should feel safe. Sebastian knew he had failed her, knew her death would always sit heavily on his conscience. Silently he cursed his father, and the image of the man he hated most in the world reminded him why getting involved with anyone like Emma Knight was a bad idea.

There was a sharp rap on the door and Seb jumped a little as he was roused from his thoughts.

‘Come in,’ he called.

‘Colonel Fitzgerald is here to see you,’ Tariq, his assistant, announced.

Seb nodded and a couple of seconds later Colonel Fitzgerald entered the room followed by Emma Knight.

Seb tried to suppress a groan. Emma hadn’t seemed the type prone to hysterics, or likely to make a scene out of their kiss the night before, but he had only known the woman for one day.

‘Colonel, Miss Knight, what an unexpected pleasure.’

The colonel smiled. He didn’t look like a man who was about to demand Seb ‘do the right thing and marry the girl.’ Seb liked the colonel. They’d spent some time working together before the colonel had semi-retired from the army, been on missions that had bonded the two men together as only danger could.

‘Please have a seat.’ He gestured to the two leather chairs facing his desk and watched as his guests sat down. Once they were comfortable he sent Tariq to make some coffee then took a seat himself.

‘What can I do for you today?’

Emma wasn’t meeting his eye. In fact she looked more nervous than either of the previous occasions that he’d met her. One hand was twisting the material of her dress whilst the other was tapping out a silent beat on the side of her chair.

‘We need a favour,’ Colonel Fitzgerald said, getting straight to the point.

Seb raised an eyebrow and felt himself relax inside. So Emma hadn’t let the secret of their kiss slip out.

‘What sort of favour?’

Colonel Fitzgerald motioned for Emma to speak. Seb watched as she swallowed, straightened her spine then lifted her head to meet his eyes.

Her gaze was unwavering and Seb felt himself shift under her scrutiny.

‘Colonel Fitzgerald assures me you are the best,’ she said.

Seb couldn’t help himself, he grinned. Emma’s eyes immediately widened as she realised what she’d just said but she ploughed on.

‘The best guide. That you have the best knowledge of Egypt.’

Seb didn’t deny it. He had scoured almost every mile of the country at one point or another. The only places in Egypt he hadn’t been were the bottom of the Nile and a few of the desert villages.

Tariq knocked quietly at the door and set a tray of coffee down on the desk. Silently he poured three cups. Just as he was about to leave Colonel Fitzgerald caught his eye.

‘Might I have a quick word about the latest shipment?’ the colonel asked.

Tariq nodded and waited for Colonel Fitzgerald to follow him from the room.

‘Alone again,’ Seb murmured.

Emma cleared her throat and ignored his comment.

‘I need a good guide, the best, to take me into rural Egypt.’

Seb looked at her for almost a minute. It was a strange request. Certainly he’d acted as a guide for archaeological expeditions before, but never had he had a lone woman ask him to guide her through the wilds of Egypt.

‘There are sightseeing trips,’ he said. ‘Groups of like-minded people who see the main sights Egypt has to offer.’

Emma shook her head. ‘I don’t want to see the main sights.’ She paused and corrected herself. ‘At least, I do want to see the main sights, but that’s not why I’m here.’

Seb waited for her to continue.

‘I have a specific destination in mind.’

‘Where?’

‘I can’t tell you, at least not yet.’

‘So you want me to be your guide to a specific destination but you won’t tell me where?’

She nodded.

‘I would find it rather difficult to guide you if I didn’t know where we were going.’

‘I would tell you, but only when we had got underway.’

Miss Knight was becoming more and more intriguing.

‘Perhaps if you have a map I could indicate a general area,’ Emma suggested.

Seb got to his feet and crossed to a set of drawers. He opened one, pulled out a map of Egypt and set it on his desk.

He watched as Emma smoothed down the edges and started to trace the familiar places with her fingertips. Despite her only having arrived in Cairo the day before Seb could tell she loved Egypt. A feather-light smile graced her lips as she ran her finger over Luxor and Alexandria and the great empty space of the desert.

‘We would start by heading down towards Luxor,’ Emma said.

‘The best way to reach Luxor is by boat.’

She shook her head.

‘We would need to go via the desert.’

When she didn’t elaborate any further Seb placed a finger on Cairo and then traced a route through the desert.

‘The desert is harsh and unforgiving. It would take a week to travel from Cairo to Luxor, if you hire good quality horses and have the stamina to stay in the saddle all day.’

‘So you’ll do it?’ Emma asked, her face lighting up.

Seb shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, Miss Knight, but I don’t take on jobs like this.’

‘Jobs like what?’

‘Mystery jobs. I need to know what I’m getting myself into.’

Emma sighed and stood. ‘I’m sorry to waste your time,’ she said. ‘Could you recommend anyone else who might be interested?’

Seb felt the blood drain from his face. He knew plenty of reprobates who would jump at the chance of luring a pretty young woman out into the desert.

‘The people of Egypt are kind and welcoming,’ he said slowly, ‘but unfortunately here, as in the rest of the world, there are criminals. People who will agree to do something only to abandon you in the middle of the desert with no money and no means of transport.’

Emma’s eyes widened, but in indignation, not shock. ‘I might look inexperienced and naive, Mr Oakfield, but I can assure you I know what dark streaks can run through people.’

He hoped not. A sheltered young woman shouldn’t have to know of the underbelly of society.

‘I just urge you to be careful in selecting a guide.’

‘I was. I came to you.’

He couldn’t argue with her logic.

She stood and started to cross over to the door. Seb could just picture her paying some sleazy man to guide her into the desert, only for him to take advantage of her and leave her for dead.

He ran a hand through his hair. It was none of his business; he hardly knew her. It wasn’t his job to protect her. Surely the Fitzgeralds would screen out the most unsuitable of guides.

Cursing silently, he strode over to the door and placed a hand on the wood just as Emma was turning the handle. He hated not being in control, and right now Emma was forcing his hand.

‘Why don’t you tell me a little more about your proposed route?’ he asked through gritted teeth.

The smile she gave him was almost worth it in itself. Seb could feel the tendrils of desire start to creep from somewhere deep inside him and wanted nothing more than to reach out and brush his fingers across her silky cheeks.

Emma broke the spell by bounding back across the room and flopping down into her chair. With a grimace Seb followed.

‘I would like to travel down through the desert about twenty miles west of the Nile.’ She traced her fingers along the map. ‘There are a few landmarks we would need to pass before I could tell you the rest of the directions.’

Slowly Seb realised what this was all about. She had a map, or at least a description of a route. That was why she was playing things close to her chest.

He shifted, wondering how to break it to her that most of the maps and scrolls circulating were fakes or forgeries. They promised tombs filled with untold riches, undiscovered since ancient times. In reality the scrolls had been produced en masse by a wily entrepreneur with dubious morals, eager to con an unsuspecting customer.

‘Emma,’ he started, then quickly corrected himself, ‘Miss Knight, it would be extremely difficult to plan a trip without knowing the final destination you had in mind.’

She shook her head as if it were impossible to tell him any more.

‘I would at least need to know a few more details. Perhaps you are working off a map or something that you might wish to share with me?’

Again another shake of her head. She wasn’t as naive as all that.

‘Would you step outside for a minute, Mr Oakfield?’ Emma asked.

Trying not to show his amusement at being banished from his own office, Seb graciously stepped outside and closed the door. He’d give her a minute and no more. No doubt she was retrieving the scroll from wherever it was hidden on her person. He closed his eyes and leant his head back against the wall; he could almost picture her rolling up the hem of her skirt, exposing the creamy white skin of her legs.

He groaned softly. Spending two weeks in the desert with Emma would be the worst idea imaginable. Not only would they be going off on a wild goose chase, he would be subjected to two weeks in the company of a woman he found exquisitely alluring.

Rousing himself, Seb pushed open the door with no warning knock. Emma almost jumped from her seat. He heard the rustle of paper or papyrus and caught a glimpse of the scroll she was doing her best to hide away in her skirts.

Seb’s breath caught in his throat. He’d only seen one corner of the document, but that was enough to set his heart pounding. The royal seal of Rameses II was in the top left corner. The papyrus was old, almost falling apart and the ink that had been used was faded.

Seb had seen plenty of forgeries that looked this good, but something made him pause. There was a quality about the document, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on, that made him certain it was genuine. Miss Emma Knight had somehow got her hands on an authentic Ancient Egyptian scroll.

He tried not to let his excitement show. For years he had been searching for something like this, an opportunity to discover an important tomb for himself. Nonchalantly he strolled over to his desk and sat down.

‘Have you any more information for me?’ Seb asked, trying to keep the excitement from his voice.

What he really wanted was a good look at the document. He wondered if it was a map or a written passage, something that described a location.

‘From my calculations it would take about a week to reach the destination I have in mind.’

Seb mentally calculated where that would take them on the map. Close to Luxor, close to the tombs in the Valley of the Kings. Over a decade ago Belzoni had discovered a few new tombs in the area, but not much had been uncovered since. Maybe Emma had a map of the location of an undiscovered pharaoh’s tomb.

He frowned. If that was the case, he was unsure why they had to go by land. It would take them a few days to travel from Cairo to Luxor on the river, and from there the Valley of the Kings was easily accessible.

So maybe it was somewhere else altogether.

‘And who would be travelling?’ Seb asked.

‘Just myself and Ahmed.’

A small party, then. And notably no female chaperone.

Seb sighed and then nodded. ‘Very well, Miss Knight. I’ll do it. But you will have to trust me with more details once the trip is underway.’

Emma bounded from her seat and threw her arms around his neck. Seb was unprepared for her reaction. He felt her lithe body press up against his and instinctively his arms encircled her waist, pulling her in closer to him. She was warm and firm beneath his touch and Seb wanted nothing more than to lay her back on the desk and cover her with his body.

With great self-resolve Seb gently pulled away. He was going to be living in close proximity with Emma for the next couple of weeks, so he would have to learn to curb his urges.


Chapter Seven (#ulink_568ca95a-9d47-5c61-8f14-929346a98202)

Emma fastened her bonnet under her chin and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. The desert was going to be an unforgiving place. Within minutes her skin would redden and freckle, her throat would become parched and she would start to perspire. She knew all of this and more. She knew one wrong turn and they could be lost for weeks amongst the sand dunes, without water or hope of rescue. She knew there could be bandits eager to rob them for any money they carried or even just for a flask of water.

Emma knew of all the dangers but she still couldn’t help but feel a thrum of anticipation for the expedition. All her life she had been sheltered, shielded from the real world. And all her life she had listened to her father’s stories of Egypt, of the adventures he’d shared with her mother when she was alive. Now here she was, about to set off on an adventure of her own.

‘Are you ready, my dear?’ Colonel Fitzgerald asked as she hurried down the stairs to the hallway.

Emma glanced behind her, wondering whether she was making a mistake. It would be so easy to call the whole thing off, to spend the next month enjoying civilised Cairo, but she would regret her cowardice for the rest of her life.

‘I’m ready.’

Colonel Fitzgerald was taking her to meet Sebastian. Mrs Fitzgerald still had no idea Emma was about to set off into the desert with just Mr Oakfield as her guide. Emma knew it was cowardly, but she was glad she wasn’t going to be there when Mrs Fitzgerald found out. No doubt Colonel Fitzgerald would be subjected to a long lecture on how irresponsible he’d been to allow her to go gallivanting off into the desert with no female chaperone. Maybe the old colonel would claim he’d hired someone for the occasion.

Ahmed came hurrying down the stairs carrying her small bag. She had packed light, forgoing all the luxuries she had brought with her to Egypt. She knew they would be riding all day and camping at night. There would be no spare water to bathe in and no spare horses to carry her baggage. She had packed just one change of underclothes and one clean dress, the lightest garment she possessed. The bundle Ahmed carried weighed hardly anything and Emma was confident she would be able to transport it all the way herself if required.

Just as they were about to leave, Dalila came hurrying towards them with a soft bundle over her shoulder.

Colonel Fitzgerald turned to Emma and explained, ‘Dalila is going to visit her family for a few days, but if anyone asks she is to be your chaperone whilst you are in the desert.’

Emma nodded, understanding how the colonel’s mind worked. He might be happy to trust Sebastian Oakfield with her virtue, but he wasn’t silly enough to think other people had the same high opinion of him. This deception would protect her reputation.

Colonel Fitzgerald led their little procession out of the house and up into the carriage. Emma found herself unable to sit still; she was nervous, she realised, and it wasn’t entirely because of the nature of the trip. Her mind kept skirting around the real issue that was bothering her, unable or unwilling to admit that she was nervous about spending such a long time in Sebastian’s company.

The man did things to her brain she couldn’t explain. Ever since that ill-advised night with Freddie, and the disastrous morning after, Emma had built up her defences. The charms of men no longer worked upon her. She could see a lingering look or dazzling smile for what it really was: flirtation with no real meaning. She had continued to socialise, despite all the disgusted looks and whispering behind hands, but she had done so with her defences firmly up.

But Sebastian was another matter altogether. Ever since the first moment their eyes had met over the sparkling waters of the Nile, Emma hadn’t been able to get the man out of her head. She seemed to lose all reason when she was around him. A smile or a fleeting touch set her heart pounding in her chest and made her want to smile or touch back. She found herself thinking of him even when he wasn’t around, imagining his response to a comment in a conversation, or his smile when something amusing was said.

It was ridiculous, when she thought about it. She’d only met the man three times and now she was imagining him everywhere.

Emma supposed it was inevitable, really. Sebastian was a good-looking man, in an unconventional way. He didn’t look or act a single bit like Freddie, or the other men of her acquaintance back in England, and she supposed that was part of his appeal. Whereas most Englishmen would be ashamed of bronzed skin, which showed they spent most of the day outdoors, Sebastian probably rolled his sleeves up at every opportunity. And his shock of blond hair wasn’t cut or styled to the latest fashion, it just flopped over his eyes like an unruly mane. His personality, so carefree and happy, was also a contrast to the men of the ton, who seemed to want to pretend they were bored and tired of everything. Sebastian was a man who looked as if he could enjoy himself.

Emma shook her head ruefully. She shouldn’t be thinking of him that way. Sebastian Oakfield was her guide, nothing more. She was paying the man to escort her through Egypt. She shouldn’t be thinking about his unruly hair or bronzed skin or the way his eyes sparkled in the sunlight like the most precious of jewels.

She was a mature woman, not a girl any longer. Sebastian might be handsome and funny and kind, but any involvement with him other than the strictly professional would be a bad idea, and so she would just have to put his charming smile from her mind.

The carriage slowed to a stop and Emma took a second to compose herself before getting down. She allowed Colonel Fitzgerald to take her hand and assist her to the ground, and had to force herself not to cling to the old man. This was her adventure and she was going to enjoy every second of it.

‘Miss Knight.’ Sebastian’s low voice in her ear made her shiver with anticipation. ‘Are you all ready for our expedition?’

The croak that came from Emma’s throat made her wish the ground would just open up and swallow her whole. Taking a deep breath, she coughed, then turned to face Sebastian.

‘I’m very much looking forward to getting started,’ Emma said.

‘It’s not going to be an easy two weeks,’ Sebastian warned as he turned back to one of the beautiful horses and adjusted the harness.

‘I’m prepared for that.’

‘Most nights we will sleep under the stars.’

Emma tried not to look too excited. She’d always dreamed of sleeping under the stars in the desert, like a true adventuress.

‘I am looking forward to falling asleep with nature around me.’

‘And it’s going to be unbearably hot, in the day.’

‘I like the heat.’

‘And freezing cold at night.’

‘That’ll be a nice respite from the warmth of the day.’

‘The desert is filled with dangerous creatures and bandits.’

Emma smiled sweetly at Sebastian. ‘I’m confident you’ll protect me.’

‘So you haven’t changed your mind?’ Sebastian studied her face for a long few seconds.

‘I haven’t changed my mind,’ she confirmed.

Sebastian broke out into a full grin. ‘Good, I’m looking forward to the next two weeks.’

He turned away and shouted an order in Arabic. Two boys came scuttling towards them and stood to attention before Sebastian.

‘Miss Knight, can I introduce you to our travelling companions? This is Akil and this is Akins.’

The two boys saluted.

‘Nice to meet you, missus,’ Akil said.

He was nudged hard by his brother who whispered something in his ear.

‘Miss,’ he corrected himself.

‘It is a pleasure to meet you, too.’

The two boys looked almost identical apart from their heights. Emma surmised they were brothers, maybe a year apart in age. Both had a shock of dark hair, round dark eyes and were covered in bruises on their arms and legs. She guessed they were probably a handful.

Sebastian said something else in Arabic and the boys scuttled away, each to a horse who was far too large for their small frames.

‘We travel light. It will be just the two of us, the boys and Ahmed.’

Emma swallowed. The next couple of weeks were going to be intimate, to say the least.

‘Where’s your luggage?’ Sebastian asked, turning to look into the carriage.

Emma motioned to the small bundle by her feet.

Sebastian’s eyes widened with surprise.

‘That’s all you’ve brought?’

Emma nodded.

He picked up the bundle and opened it. Emma started to protest but he silenced her with a stern look.

‘I need to make sure you’ve got what is needed to survive for two weeks in the desert.’

‘I packed light,’ Emma said quietly as he examined the contents of her bundle.

‘Good.’ He held up the dress she’d brought. ‘It covers up most of your skin. An hour in the desert and you can burn so much your skin blisters.’

Emma felt a small measure of accomplishment that she’d managed to pack the right dress.

Sebastian continued through her bundle, rifling through the contents. Suddenly Emma froze; the only other things she’d packed were her undergarments, which meant Sebastian was now handling them.

She snatched the bundle back and tried to fight the blush she knew was rising to her cheeks. Sebastian didn’t look even a little abashed.

‘The dress is good,’ he said, ‘and I’m no expert in whatever women insist on wearing under their dresses, but as long as it’s comfortable that’s fine. What I don’t see is something for the night-time.’

Emma frowned. Surely he didn’t expect her to change into a nightgown and slippers to sleep under the stars.

He laughed at her expression. ‘Something to keep you warm at night. No matter, I’m sure I’ve got something that will do.’

He winked at her then turned back to the horse before she could even think of a response.

‘This mare will be yours. Her name’s Wadjet and she’s a little headstrong, but treat her with respect and she’ll be the best horse you’ve ever ridden.’

Emma inched forward and gently placed a hand on Wadjet’s neck. She cooed softly and began to stroke the chestnut mare.

‘You have ridden before?’ Sebastian asked, as if it had only just occurred to him to enquire.

‘I’ve ridden before.’

In truth Emma loved riding. There was something rather liberating about being on a horse. She liked the freedom, the idea that she could just gallop off into the distance and be completely on her own. She’d started riding more since the incident with Freddie, using the pastime as an escape from the unwelcome stares and comments from the rest of her social group.

‘There is still time to change your mind,’ Sebastian said, moving in closer towards her, closing the distance between them in a single stride.

Emma felt her breathing become shallower, and she struggled to maintain her composure.

She tilted her chin so she was looking up into his eyes and immediately knew that was a mistake. She needed to sever this connection between them, not intensify it.

‘I won’t think any less of you.’

Emma shook her head. He might not think less of her, but she would. She would never forgive herself for pulling out now.

‘I am completely certain I want to go ahead with this expedition,’ Emma said, looking Sebastian squarely in the eye.

There was a pause, a couple of seconds where they both remained completely still until Sebastian grinned.

‘Good. I’ve been looking forward to this for days.’


Chapter Eight (#ulink_8264185b-bb2e-50ff-9807-7e3df88afddd)

Seb finished securing the last few bags and turned to survey the yard. He couldn’t count the number of expeditions he’d been on in the last few years. Every few weeks he would set out into the wilderness, sometimes on his own, sometimes accompanied by a few of his most trusted employees. Never before had he taken someone like Emma along with him though.

He wondered if it really was a good idea. She didn’t know what she was letting herself in for, that was for sure. He could emphasise the dangers all he liked, but nothing prepared you for your first experience of the desert. The days were scorchingly hot, the nights freezing cold, and the terrain one of the most inhospitable on earth.

He pictured the corner of the scroll he’d caught a glimpse of and knew he needed to go on this expedition. All the time he’d spent in Egypt he’d been waiting for something like this, something big, something to discover for himself. Here was his opportunity. And if it meant taking the delectable Miss Knight along for the ride then he’d just have to remain professional and do what she was employing him to: be her guide.

He glanced over to the entrance of the yard, where there was some commotion. Colonel Fitzgerald had just left, after bidding a fond farewell to Emma, but another small group had arrived. He scrutinised the newcomers with interest. It was possible someone else had got wind of the scroll already and they were coming to threaten or cajole their way onto the expedition.

His frown lifted as Ahmed, Emma’s stalwart companion, greeted the three men warmly. He watched as the older Egyptian listened carefully to what was being said, his face crumpling at the news.

After a few minutes Ahmed separated himself from the group and made his way directly to Seb.

‘Can I speak with you?’ Ahmed asked, his face grave.

Seb led the way inside and up to his office. He motioned for Ahmed to have a seat and waited silently for the older man to start to speak.




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