Lord of the Nile Page 10

  Harique was beginning to believe the old man’s story. “Who is the high-ranking lord she was running from?”

  “I cannot say.”

  “Cannot—or will not?”

  “I do not know the man,” Uriah stated, which was true as far as it went—he’d never met Lord Ramtat in person, though he knew of him.

  “You know more than you are saying. If you took her out of the city, you knew who she was running from. Is the man she feared responsible for her abduction?”

  “That I cannot say, but I do not believe so. What dealings would an Egyptian lord have with desert dwellers?”

  Harique looked into defiant eyes. “Just know this, old man: She is my slave, and so are you.”

  “Neither of us belongs to you,” Uriah stated, trying not to smile. “Harique, you have been outsmarted by your uncle. Before he died, he made Lady Danaë his adopted daughter. You cannot touch her.”

  “I do not believe you. Show me proof.”

  “That I will never do. The document is in a safe place. If I were you, I would have a care about persecuting someone with the standing of Lady Danaë. She has made a friend of the king.”

  “The king’s friendship did little to help her in her present situation, did it?” Harique stated sarcastically.

  The muscle in Harique’s jaw twitched with anger. For so long he had imagined Danaë as his slave, subject to his every whim, and just when that desire was about to be realized, he had been thwarted. “Enough! Restrain the old man,” he ordered. “I want the house thoroughly searched for documents, even if you have to bring it down stone by stone. This room is as good a place to start as any.”

  Uriah watched warily. Harique would have no trouble finding the adoption scroll, because he had not hidden it. Everything had gone wrong so quickly. His lips tightened, and his gaze went to the satisfied grin on Harique’s face when one of the guards produced the document from a stack of scrolls on a shelf.

  Harique saw Uriah’s face whiten, and his satisfaction deepened. He quickly scanned the document and nodded. “My uncle did not love me, nor did I have any love for him. But I have outsmarted him, and he must be gnashing his teeth even in the afterlife.” He handed the document back to the guard who had found it. “Burn it,” he ordered. His voice hardened as he watched the document disintegrate into ashes. “There goes your proof, old man. Danaë is now my slave, and when I find her, she will be forced to do whatever I say.”

  “There are two other copies in safe hands,” Uriah stated. “You cannot find and destroy them both.”

  Harique smirked. “Do you think me a simpleton? I have already destroyed those two copies of which you speak.” He pointed to the pile of ashes. “That was the last written proof that my uncle took Danaë as his legal daughter.”

  When Uriah struggled to free himself, Harique brought the handle of his whip down on his head, and Uriah crumpled to the floor.

  “For that matter,” Harique stated, kicking Uriah’s ribs to see if he was unconscious, “you have lost, fool.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Danaë had spent two days waiting for the Bedouin sheik to reappear, but when he finally did, he came without warning, taking her completely by surprise. The tapestry parted, and she held her breath as he walked slowly toward her. He was tall and still draped all in black—the lower part of his face covered so all she could see was his eyes. His penetrating stare made her drop her gaze to concentrate on his dusty black boots. Apparently, he’d just returned from riding in the desert. After a long, uncomfortable silence, she finally raised her head to find him staring at her intently.

  His silence, more than anything else, unsettled her. Warily she watched as he removed the agal that held his headcovering in place. Shock must have registered on her face as she stared in disbelief at the last man she ever wanted to see again.

  He made a deep bow. “Lady Danaë.”

  She was astonished that Lord Ramtat was the one who had abducted her. In truth, she feared her captor more now that she knew who he was than she had when he was only an unknown Bedouin sheik.

  “I trust you have been made comfortable,” he said, his hot gaze sweeping across her face.

  “You are a traitor and a deceiver,” she said.

  “A deceiver, perhaps, but a traitor, never—not to Egypt.”

  “You are a traitor to the king, and you deceive everyone who trusts you. The Romans think you are one of them; the king thinks you are his friend; and you deceived me into thinking you were a sheik.” Her courage rose as her anger heightened. “How dare you make me your prisoner!” She backed toward the curtained area, her fingers gripping the filmy material. “You had no right to abduct me!”

  He looked at her gravely. “Unfortunately, it was necessary. I could not take the chance that you would tell Ptolemy you had seen me sail into Alexandria on a Roman warship.”

  “I should have told the king that day at the palace, even though you threatened me,” Danaë said decisively. “How could you have stood at the king’s side pretending to be his friend? I denounce you as an impostor and a traitor to Egypt!”

  Lord Ramtat frowned. “My allegiance is to Egypt, not to a spoiled boy-king who is naught but the puppet of those two evil men who control him.” He found himself wishing he could make her understand his motives. “If not checked, Ptolemy will eventually bring Egypt to its knees.”

  “You will not find me a sympathetic ear if you wish to talk against King Ptolemy.” Anger exploded inside Danaë. “And who are you to decide what is best for Egypt? You would hand everything over to your Roman masters as a gift.” Danaë watched Ramtat’s eyes darken and narrow, but that did not deter her. “In truth, it’s you who is the real puppet—and it’s your mighty Caesar who pulls your strings.”

  “You are free to think what you will. Your views will cause no one harm here in the desert, where only the scorpions can hear them.”

  “I’m not without powerful friends who will come looking for me. Do you think my servant Uriah did not go immediately to Alexandria when he discovered I was missing? I’m sure he sought an audience with King Ptolemy immediately. Even now the king’s troops could be scouring the desert for me.”

  “The king has other pressing matters that consume his time,” Ramtat informed her, his hard gaze sweeping across her face. “Not only is he fighting his sister, Queen Cleopatra, but he has now also foolishly waged war against Caesar and his legions.”

  “If the gods are with him, none can stand against him.”

  Ramtat looked at her impatiently, and when he spoke, it was as if he were explaining the situation to a child. “The gods would have done well to warn him not to divide his troops, or to fight on two fronts.”

  Danaë was actually shocked to learn that Ptolemy was in open warfare with Julius Caesar, the most powerful man in the world. “I admit,” she said grudgingly, “it might not have been wise for the king to take up arms against Caesar.” She frowned as she met Ramtat’s gaze. “And what of Queen Cleopatra? Is she safe?”

  “Caesar has sent men out to search for her. When last I heard, she had not been found. When she is, Caesar will place her under his protection. Egypt stands in great need of her.”

  “I scorn your notion of what’s good for Egypt. If Queen Cleopatra is found by the Romans, she will probably be placed under Caesar’s control, not under his protection. What is the difference between King Ptolemy being controlled by the two imbeciles who counsel him, and Queen Cleopatra being owned by Rome? Can you answer me that?”

  “What would you like to happen?” he snapped. “Would you want to see the queen slain on the field of battle?” He watched Lady Danaë’s eyes sadden, and her sorrow struck him to the heart, though he could not have said why. Still, he tried to make her understand. “You saw Ptolemy—talked to him. You know Egypt will never fare well under his rule.”

  “I believe that with the right advisers, Ptolemy could become a good king.”

  “You do not really know the boy
.”

  She was becoming annoyed. “And you do?”

  “I know him well, and trust him not at all.”

  She raised her gaze to his. “When I met Ptolemy, I found him pitiable. He has no one to stand as his friend.”

  “Open your eyes and look around you—the country has been torn apart by a spoiled child playing at being king. Ptolemy must be stopped, along with his two evil advisers. If he does not accept his sister as co-ruler, he must die.”

  Danaë raised her chin even as she felt it tremble. She no longer knew what to think—there was sound reasoning behind Lord Ramtat’s arguments. But she did not want to think about the young king losing his life. “Would his death not bother you?”

  “Sometimes I feel as if I am bleeding inside because of the choices I have been forced to make. But every Egyptian will soon have to decide between the king and the queen.” He gazed into her eyes. “Be very sure you choose the right one.”

  Danaë doubted she and Lord Ramtat would ever agree on who should rule Egypt. What she really wanted to know was what he was going to do with her. “How long are you going to keep me prisoner?” she demanded.

  “I will only detain you for a time.”

  “Be warned, I will escape if I get the chance. And if I reach the king’s ear, I will warn him you are no friend of his.”

  He stared at her through half-closed lashes. “It would not be wise to set one foot outside this tent. Should you attempt to do so, you will be restrained by my guards.” He took a deep breath. “Should you somehow succeed in slipping past my men, there is nowhere you can go.”

  She had already come to that conclusion on her own. In her anger, Danaë struck out at him. “Should you not go back to your lord Caesar and ask what else you can do to serve him?”

  She was not watching him, so she did not see him flinch. “I will speak to you no more on this matter,” he said harshly. “ I am only here because I was informed that you have refused to eat.”

  Danaë’s chin rose to a defiant angle. “I choose not to eat your food, Lord Ramtat.”

  He walked toward her, and her hand tightened on the curtain netting as if it were her lifeline.

  Ramtat regretted that she was frightened of him, but there was naught he could do to change her mind while she was his captive. “You have only to say what you would like to eat, and it will be provided for you.”

  “I just want to go home.”

  He lifted one dark brow and smiled slightly. “For now, consider this your home.”

  Danaë met his gaze. He was standing so near, she could feel the heat of his body. His eyes were dark brown, sensuously deep and hypnotic. He was more than handsome, and he probably knew it. Somehow the Bedouin robes made him look younger than he had appeared as a high-ranking Roman officer or as an important Egyptian lord standing beside the king. Whatever disguise he wore, he exuded power. She had to say something, anything to break the tension between them.

  “How did you fool these people into believing you’re a Bedouin sheik, and the king into believing you’re an Egyptian nobleman?”

  He drew in his breath. “At least in this I can defend myself. My mother is a Bedouin, and I inherited the title from her father, my grandfather; therefore, I am a Bedouin sheik, Sheik El-Badari. My own father was Lord of Tausret—I inherited his title on his death.” He removed his outer robe and tossed it onto one of the couches, which left him wearing only a blue-trimmed toga that came to his knees. “In those two things I have practiced no subterfuge.”

  “Why should I believe you?”

  She had a way of nettling him. He didn’t know whether he wanted to throttle her or kiss her into submission. Running a hand through his short-clipped hair, he said in exasperation, “I am not here to talk about me—I came to make sure you take nourishment. I would not want to have the charge of starving you added to my other crimes.”

  It was difficult for Danaë to concentrate on anything but Ramtat when he was standing so near. He held himself in a regal manner that set him apart from other men. She had felt the touch of his mouth on hers, and just thinking about it caused a dull ache inside her. But he was her enemy, her captor, and she must not feel any softening toward him. “Go away—I shall eat what I want, when I want. You’re wasting your time with me.”

  Angrily he shoved aside the tapestry that led outside. Danaë could not see the person he was talking to, but whoever it was handed him a tray of food, which he placed on a low table before turning back to her.

  “You think to defy me by not eating?”

  “At the moment, you have taken away my freedom in almost everything. But I can still refuse your hospitality.” She watched him carefully, expecting those glorious brown eyes to flame in anger. She was unsettled when he smiled indulgently.

  “If you will eat but a little, I will tell you how the war is progressing.” His voice was cajoling. “You have an interest in the battle that is now taking place, do you not?”

  He thought to induce her to eat by offering her information, but she was not so easily fooled. “Why should I care?” She shrugged. “I’m just a prisoner.”

  Undeterred, he sat down on the couch and looked at her. “How would you like me to tell you about the fire that burned many of the buildings along Alexandria’s waterfront?”

  She gasped and took a step toward him. “Was there much destruction?”

  He patted the seat beside him, indicating she should sit. “Have a bite of honey cake, and I will give you details.”

  With a guarded look, Danaë dropped down next to him. “I know what you are doing.”

  Ramtat smiled. “Do you?” His gaze moved over her dark hair, which looked like a river of shimmering black silk. Her green eyes—how they had haunted him. He could gaze into them all day and never wish to look away. He had felt her firm, lithe body when they’d raced across the desert. She stirred emotions within him that he’d rather not feel.

  But at the moment, all Ramtat could think of was pressing his mouth against those trembling lips until Danaë surrendered completely to his will. She thought she was his captive, but in truth, she was close to enslaving him.

  Ramtat would not allow himself to be conquered by a woman—he must bend her to his will. “Will you not take a bite?” he coaxed, breaking off a piece of honey cake and offering it to her.

  With a resigned sigh, Danaë leaned forward and took a bite; a shock wave went through her as her lips touched his fingers. She detested this man who had driven her into the desert and then made her his prisoner. She was also drawn to him as she had never been to any other man. “There,” she said, wiping crumbs from her mouth. “I hope that made you happy.”

  He smiled, thinking that what would really make him happy was licking those crumbs from her lips. Instead he took a bite of the cake himself. “This is very good.”

  “You said you would tell me about the fire,” Danaë reminded him.

  He held a slice of cheese out to her and resisted smiling when she took it from him and nibbled slowly, all the while glaring at him.

  “Actually,” he mused, “I am not sure who was responsible for the fire. Caesar issued orders that all ships in the harbor be burned so Ptolemy could not put up a barricade from the sea. I was told that a high wind carried the flames ashore.”

  Danaë thought of Captain Narmeri and hoped the Blue Scarab had not been burned. “Where—what part of the city?”

  “Mostly along the docks. Unfortunately, one of the buildings damaged was the Great Library.”

  She was shocked when she thought of the irreplaceable scrolls housed in the library. “Your Caesar is a barbarian.”

  Ramtat watched her unconsciously take another bite of cheese. “Even Caesar cannot command which way the wind blows. I’m sure he’s feeling remorse about all the destruction. But such is war.”

  “Tell that to the people who’ve lost their homes and businesses.” She glared at him. “You claim to love Egypt, yet you serve a man who destroys our treasures
and burns our city.”

  Ramtat studied her for a moment. He had been sickened by the loss of the library, but Egypt stood to lose everything unless Ptolemy was checked. Why could she not see that?

  “It’s hardly fair, Lady Danaë,” he said, “that you think you know everything about me while I know so little about you. Will you not tell me something of yourself?”

  Danaë stared at him. “Why would I do that?”

  Ramtat thought she looked adorable with her eyes flashing and her fists curled in her lap. “So I can know you better. I didn’t realize Lord Mycerinus had a daughter. It seems your father kept you in the country, making you a mystery—no one seems to know anything about you.” His voice deepened. “I’ve always had an inclination to solve mysteries.”

  “Then do your best. But you will get no help from me.”

  There was a long silence while Danaë chose to look away from him and examine the luxury of the surroundings. “This is your tent, is it not?”

  He bowed his head. “It is when I have occasion to be with the tribe. You see, Lady Danaë, as half Egyptian and half Bedouin, I must divide my time between my two peoples. For the last few years I have been out of the country and could not fulfill my duty to either of them.”

  She turned her head back toward him. “You must find it hard to know which way to jump first—Caesar, Egypt, the royal court, or your Bedouins. You are a very busy man.”

  He was angered by her assessment of his character. “Perhaps you should feel sympathy for one in my position and try to understand how difficult it is to be tied to so many duties and not know which way to ‘jump,’ as you put it.”

  “I have little doubt you jump fast enough if the great Caesar calls.”

  “I don’t play these political games for my amusement. We live in dangerous times. You may think of me as your enemy, but I am more friend to you than you know.”

  She looked at him in disbelief and started to say something, but he held his hand up to silence her.