Desert Rogue (25 page)

“That's not what I meant,” Jed said with a reproving frown.

“Oh,” Ali muttered, his skin taking on a darker hue. “While it is true Fatima's hunger is often satisfied more quickly than mine, she is most willing to wait for me to take my fill.”

“You're a lucky man.” Shifting his position slightly, Jed placed his arm lightly on Vicky's shoulders and drew her toward him so she rested against his chest.

“I saw you shiver,” he said solicitously. “This should help, or you could indulge in some of Ali's booty of
zabeeb.
”

“No, thank you.” She shuddered, recalling the foul taste of the strong liquor. “You and the fire will keep me warm enough.”

“Glad to oblige,” Jed replied, reaching out his hand toward her exposed leg. That thigh had beckoned him since he sat down. He trusted the darkness and the Egyptian's interest in his newly obtained flute would hide his indiscretion.

“Jed! Stop that,” Vicky scolded softly as she felt him stroke her leg. Truth be told, she was too comfortable leaning against him to stir, but she realized she should make some objection to his familiarity. “It's bad enough you tore the skirt. Don't abuse it.”

“Hush, Vicky, Ali is playing. Don't talk now,” Jed advised, wishing Ali would continue to be oblivious. Slowly, gently, he allowed his fingers to trace a meandering path up and down her outer thigh in rhythm with the soft melody Ali played. Lazily, as Jed closed his eyes to reclaim the images of Vicky's dripping body when she exited the Nile, his roving hand circled her satiny flesh.

“Behave yourself,” she warned in a whisper, darting him a reproving glance, “or I'll never bathe with you again.”

“Now, that is a punishment I surely don't deserve,” protested Jed. Nonetheless, he removed his hand and placed it over Vicky's, his heart soaring.

“Ali is surprisingly competent on that thing,” he murmured a while later as the Egyptian continued to call forth native sounds from the flute.

When Vicky made no reply, Jed looked down into her face and was oddly disturbed to find her asleep in his arms.

“Why are you playing lullabies, Ali? You've put Vicky to sleep,” he complained, only half in jest.

“And if you keep fussing so, you will awaken her,” cautioned Ali. Putting down the flute, he rose to stretch his stiffened muscles and smiled at the sleeping woman. “Let the poor girl rest, for heaven's sake. The journey surely has not been easy on her.”

“And if she sleeps in my arms this way, the night won't be easy on me.”

“Then shift her off of you to the ground. The grass is soft enough and I managed to get an extra blanket—”

“What didn't you get?” muttered Jed beneath his breath. “Just toss me a bedroll and I'll see to her.”

She had trusted him enough to literally fall asleep atop him. He could not misuse that trust and abandon her to the ground. Besides, Vicky had become a nighttime habit, he admitted to himself, her soft presence as comforting in her proximity as it was disquieting.

Never had he spent so many consecutive nights sleeping chastely beside a beautiful woman, Jed realized in amusement, unable to decide how he felt—at peace or in torment. He only knew that suddenly he regretted Cairo was but two days' north of them and he vowed to treasure every remaining hour of their journey.

Y
et despite his best intentions, Jed found the following day to be more grueling than any they had spent in the desert. Where before he had been fully occupied, on board the
falucca
there was little that needed his intense supervision. Too often he found himself staring at Vicky, his mind hard at work teasing his resolve with seductive memories.

Ali had insisted on controlling the sail, and since the early rays of dawn had cut across the sky, he had delighted in taking them speedily past the small farms and settlements on the banks of the river in their northward journey. While Jed might have lowered the canvas for a bit and let them flow with the steady current, the Cairene persisted in turning the sail to catch each gust of wind and hurry them farther forward.

When Jed had suggested lingering ashore after their midday meal, the others had looked at him aghast.

“Jed, my Fatima is doubtlessly fraught with worry, fearing that I may never return to her,” Ali had protested. “Would you lengthen her torment so you might enjoy a nap on the bank?”

Finally the American had reluctantly conceded, returning to the
falucca
and ruing each blast of wind that drove them closer to Cairo. He sat apart from them, unable to shake his dark mood and unwilling to subject Victoria and Ali to it.

His emerald eyes studied Vicky, noting the way she tossed her head periodically, freeing her curls to fly in the air. At one point, she attempted to secure them up under the soft hat he had provided, but their satiny texture prohibited their confinement and soon the golden tendrils slipped from bondage to lie against her back again, and the hat was abandoned.

New freckles caressed her pert nose and cheeks, and the paler blond of her hair caught his attention, too, as she unwittingly engraved her image on his unprotected soul. The sun had kissed Vicky as he had, but where she bore visible traces of nature's embrace, she carried no sign of his. Jed knew that was for the best, yet as he watched her amuse herself, he couldn't help but regret the inevitable loss of her. Without his conscious assent, she had become an integral part of his life.

“A piaster for your thoughts, Jed,” she suddenly intruded, settling herself beside him. “Or should I venture a pound? From the frown on your face, I imagine they're pretty weighty ones.”

“Not really.” Chasing away his doubts, he grinned and reached out to run his finger across her cheek. “I was thinking how incredible it is that the sun can kill hardy men and beasts but for you, it merely adds greater beauty, a slight dusting of freckles—”

“Freckles? Oh, no, not really.” Victoria sighed, her hand brushing his when she made as if to wipe away the offensive spots. “Mother's adamant about my avoiding the sun for just that reason.”

“I imagine she'll forgive you this time.” Jed chuckled. “Personally, I find them quite an attractive feature.”

“You don't find them unappealing?” She was surprised, but then, Jed's opinions often caught her unaware.

“You already know I'm a maverick, why should one more unconventional view startle you?” he asked, dispatching his fingers to once more gently stroke the sun's sprinklings.

“
Maverick?
I don't believe I know the word,” she said with a smile, relishing his touch. As his fingers softly caressed her skin, his thumb anchored itself beneath her chin and quickened her pulse, the effect as enchanting as always when he touched her lately.

“A
maverick
is a calf who isn't branded and goes its own way until a rancher corrals it and ends its independence with a hot iron applied to its rump,” Jed explained. “But people like my stepfather use the word to describe rebels like me who don't follow society's rules—unless we're caught and branded.”

“I don't believe there's any chance of that happening to you, Jed,” called Ali, observing the interplay between them. “You never sit still long enough for anyone to claim you.”

“True, I never have been one for staying put,” acknowledged the American, dropping his hand from Vicky's face. “But maybe there was never a reason to do so.”

“Does that mean you won't be staying in Cairo?” she asked, moistening her lips and opening her eyes wide in dismay. “I'd be sorry to lose contact with you.” What made her
say
such a thing—even if it was true? Lately, in Jed's presence, she couldn't control her errant thoughts and they escaped her lips as words.

“I'll be around for a day or two,” he said, rising to his feet to avoid her questioning look. “Then it's off to another job.” The sun was warm this afternoon as always, but Vicky's innocent distress had raised his temperature until he felt like a volcano about to explode. Of course, he should have known better than to have touched her. Playing with fire, that's what he was doing, and he was afraid Vicky's burn would be long in healing.

“Let me take the sail, Ali,” he demanded abruptly. “I don't want you straining that shoulder any longer.”

“I'm fine,” protested the Egyptian. Sparks had been flying between Jed and Victoria all day, and while he wasn't certain who was striking the flint, he preferred to stay out of range. “You took charge in the desert, let me guide us on the river.”

“I
said
I'll work the sail,” repeated Jed. Damn it, if he didn't escape Vicky's woeful glance, he might do something even more irresponsible.

“All right, all right,” agreed Ali, startled to see the desperation in Jed's face. The man was trying to escape Vicky's attentions, he realized in amazement. Perhaps Jed
was
honorable where she was concerned. “I expect you'll be stopping soon for the night, though.”

“Soon,” muttered Jed.
The night—
the last night before they reached Cairo. As much as he wished it would never arrive, he also hoped it would pass so quickly that he would have no time for further temptation. As it was, watching Vicky, he found himself dreaming of what he might have done had he been the one to abduct her from Cairo. Irrational thoughts of taking her back into the desert danced through his mind until he cursed the active imagination that haunted him.

Sitting alone in the bow of the
falucca,
dressed in her high-necked, long-sleeved blouse and skirt, Vicky looked every inch an unapproachable lady. Had she always appeared so private, there would have been no issue to resolve.

But yesterday afternoon, naked in the river, she had been all woman and very willing to be his...though he had chivalrously declined the opportunity. As he watched Vicky take an orange from one of the bags containing Ali's booty, Jed took a deep breath and tried to look away, praying that he might be as strong tonight.

Across the boat, Vicky's slender fingers tugged at the orange peel. A curved nail drew itself over the uneven skin. Then, her tongue peeking from between her lips as she concentrated, she began to tease the rind protecting the fruit. With a gleeful smile of anticipation, she licked her lips and separated a piece of orange from the whole, bringing it to her mouth. Her pink tongue darted out to lick at the sweet juice leaking from the small sliver as her eyes closed in sensual delight.

Startled to discover he was holding his breath as he observed the suggestive tableau, Jed swallowed heavily and compelled his eyes once again to flee the provocative sight. Vicky was a siren, able to mesmerize a man with her incredible charms, he realized. Where the women of mythology had attracted men to inevitable doom with their glorious songs, Vicky called him forth with her natural but untutored passion for life.

On the journey from the slave pens she had changed—but so had he, from the expert concerned only with his job to a man tempted all too readily by personal involvement....

Perhaps he should wait a bit before stopping for the night and concentrate his attention instead on the herons near the shore rather than on the lovely swan in the
falucca,
Jed considered. The less time they had ashore together, the safer she would be. And so would he.

* * *

She was hot, Victoria concluded a while later, lifting her curls up off her neck. She was hotter than she ever remembered being, yet it was not just the late afternoon sun that had overheated her, but a fire growing within. Each time she looked at Jed, she burned a little more. He had kissed her, he had caressed her, he had begun to love her last evening, and then he had offered her the choice. Today she had begun to believe that she had chosen wrongly.

Every lingering glance of those hard green eyes filled her with excitement, making her recall the smokiness of their depths when he had lowered his mouth to hers, the huskiness of his voice when he had freed her. Once more she marveled at the man who had risked everything to save her but sought nothing in return. He
was
a maverick, a renegade who would never be caged by convention, but that was all right, her heart whispered. The world needed Jed Kincaids more urgently than it needed Hayden Reeds—and tonight, so did she.

Before she could think about her obligations to Hayden and change her mind, Victoria stood up and moved toward Jed. All thoughts of her past as well as her future dissolved in the reality of the present moment. She discarded decorum and society's expectations, embracing the impetuous streak Jed had seen in her. Deliberately, she exposed the full length of her leg as she stood before him awaiting his attention.

“I think it's time,” she murmured softly.

“Time?” Jed muttered hoarsely. Unable to look away from her, he was finding it difficult to concentrate on her words.

“Jed, I want to be ashore,” she said. Intentionally, she leaned forward to run her hand down his shoulder to where his rolled-up sleeve exposed his well-muscled forearm. Her fingers idly traced a path among the small hairs that curled against his skin as she moistened her lips.

His eyes flew up to her face and Jed knew he had no hope of refusing what she offered him. Last night she had been unsure. This evening, clearly she was not.

Grabbing her hand, he lifted it to his lips and slowly kissed its palm, tantalized by the sweet orange fragrance clinging to her. If the shivers wending their way down his spine were any indication, after Ali was asleep tonight, they would share untold joys of loving.

“Ali, wake up, the left bank looks like a good spot to spend the night,” Jed called loudly, rousing the Egyptian from his torpor in the bow. “I'll need a hand with the sail. We could all use a good night's sleep,” he added. His eyes were trained on Vicky and full of roguish promise as he relinquished his hold on her.

* * *

The evening meal was disappointing, Jed noticed an hour later. Amused that the same menu that had been so pleasing twenty-four hours ago left him unimpressed tonight, he forced himself to eat nonetheless. Of course, his plans for after dinner might be affecting his appetite, he supposed.

Lifting his eyes from his plate, he watched Vicky moving the roast lamb about her plate as though she too had other hungers more pressing. But then she speared a piece of meat and brought it daintily to her mouth and his breath quickened. Once more Jed felt the excitement her mouth open beneath his had generated last evening. Running a shaking hand through his dark hair, he prayed that after the hours Ali had spent at the sail, he was particularly weary. Perhaps he could set an example, Jed thought, yawning loudly and making a show of stretching his arms.

“Sorry, I don't know what's come over me. I am just plumb exhausted tonight,” he ventured.

“After more than two weeks of perilous adventures, your body is finally admitting its human limitations. The rest of us have been thoroughly spent for days,” said Ali.

“Ali is right,” agreed Victoria, rising to her feet and gathering their plates. “It is time we
all
went to sleep.”

Soon each of the travelers was abed, one waiting for sleep and the other two for something quite different.

* * *

When next Vicky opened her eyes, the night was quiet. Ali was snoring gently and Jed was kneeling beside her.

“The fire is out,” she murmured softly, rising to accept his unspoken invitation. He was all she had thought about the entire day. For her, nothing else existed but this man and this place. There was no future and no past—only now and Jed Kincaid.

“We won't need it once we're away from camp.” With a practiced stealth that came from avoiding the curiosity of a slew of brothers, Jed grabbed two blankets and led the way past the sleeping Egyptian. She followed gladly, her pulse quickening with each step she took as she willingly answered the seductive call beckoning her woman's soul.

Moving quietly across the grass near the shore, Victoria was struck by the untouched beauty of the night. The sky was an inky black, stretching from one horizon to the other, a perfect foil for the heavenly lights that spoke of infinite glory and majesty. Each star was set apart by the darkness surrounding it, a sparkling diamond resting on a bed of rich ebony velvet, while in the west the crescent moon seemed carved from alabaster, its ivory sheen pure and milky.

Then Jed stopped and spread the blankets on the ground, rising quickly to take her in his arms. When he came to her, she found the heat of his body at once soothing and provocative, reminding her of what was to come.

She was so small, her blond head barely met his chin. All day he had longed to clutch her fiercely to him and drive her mad with ecstasy, but now that she was in reach, he found he wanted to go slowly and make their night together last forever. Looking down into her expectant face, he smiled and bent to kiss her.

As his lips covered hers, Victoria felt a surge of excitement, recalling their feverish embraces of the night before. His touch this time was gentle though, each tender caress of his lips a reassurance of his patience. His kisses danced across her face, alighting briefly like a hummingbird atop the freckles scattered across her cheeks, tasting and teasing. His firm mouth traced its own meandering path in no hurry, tantalizing her eyes, her chin, even the tip of her nose, before returning once more to pleasure her impatient lips. Paying her loving tribute, his worship was thorough and unselfish. Where once Jed would have thought to dominate, now his only instinct was to satisfy.