Laura Martin - Under A Desert Moon

‘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.