Laura Martin - Under A Desert Moon

‘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

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.