Must Have Been The Moonlight Read Free

camel chose that moment to bellow: a sound that resembled a tortuous scream. Magnified by the emptiness of the desert, it ricocheted against the rocks.
    Whatever courage the girl had momentarily lost reappeared tenfold in its echo. He barely evaded her knee, andthen only because he’d felt her body tense. She sidestepped him, but he caught her easily in a few steps.
    “Let go!” Her feet flailing in the air, she kicked wildly at his legs. He saw the shadow of a woman slumped against the far rock wall the same instant the terrier in his arms did. “Oh, please”—her fingers tried to pry him loose—“something has happened to her.”
    There were tracks in the sand made by stout English boots, clearly female. No fire lit the clearing. He saw no packs, no food, nor any knapsack that might carry utensils, only one waterskin, all of which he glimpsed as he let go of the struggling woman in his arms.
    The second woman was lying unconscious with her back to the wall, her pale cheek resting on her outstretched arm. She was also European. Her torn clothes bore the evidence of her flight these past days.
    Watching as the dark-haired houri spoke to the woman, cradling the faintly blond head in her lap, he slowly approached.
    And stopped.
    Michael recognized the unconscious woman.
    What Englishman in Egypt didn’t know the aristocrat wife of the minister of public works? Though Michael had been present once or twice at a function that included Sir Christopher Donally, not in the three years since his arrival in Egypt had he personally had an occasion to be introduced to his archeologist wife. Like most men, he had admired the lady from afar. From his sources in Cairo, he’d known that Donally’s sister had arrived in Egypt some months ago.
    These two must have been on the caravan due at Donally’s base camp.
    The caravan he’d been going to meet.
    Michael lifted his gaze—straight into the muzzle of another one of his own damn guns. “Shit!”
    The girl reached one trembling hand to cock the revolver. “I swear…I’ll shoot.” The hand holding the weaponshook. Lady Alexandra’s head rested protectively in her lap. “Go away and leave us alone.”
    “I can’t do that, amîri .”
    He could have attempted to take the gun—and might have been killed for the effort. Hunched on his calves, Michael stayed where he was. His burnoose folded around his knees, the tagilmust fell forward off his shoulder. He braced one elbow on his knee and lay one hand across the other. “There was a second rider trailing you,” he said, keeping his voice level. “I am not he. I am not your enemy, Miss Donally.”
    Her breath caught at the sound of her name. “Don’t come near us. I mean it. How else would you know who we are if you’re not one of them?”
    Donally’s sister hadn’t been in Egypt long enough to know who he was. She probably wouldn’t believe him anyway. Hell, he wasn’t exactly pristine in appearance. “Like your brother, I, too, work for the khedive,” he quietly said.
    The muzzle wavered slightly, but now when their eyes held, he saw that she was confused. “Anyone c-could say that.” She started to shake from the shock and her wet clothes. The gun was too heavy for her to hold steady. He patiently waited for exhaustion to overtake her.
    “Ask me where in England I’m from,” he said, to keep her talking.
    “You speak perfect English.” Her whisper had become strained. “Obviously you’ve l-lived abroad. That’s c-common.”
    Her head held high, the dark tangled ebony of her hair framed her face. Michael felt tight and strange inside. She’d been through hell, and she still fought him like a tiger-cat. For a man who’d known little tenderness in his lifetime and who’d found only mystery in his emotions, he was deeply moved by her courage.
    Unfortunately, it was a battle of wills that she would lose. But then, the Irish always were tougher than they looked.
    She hung on a half hour longer than