Erin Yorke - Desert Rogue

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For Tracy Farrell—with sincere thanks for all your encouragement in this roller coaster of a business. You make it easier to ride the ups and downs.

For Marion Willoughby, and all the other women who trudge across the treacherous sands of life without a hero to guide them—may he be waiting just over the horizon.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

The whoosh of a clenched fist traveling past Jed Kincaid’s ear momentarily drowned out the exotic wail of the snake charmer’s flute as it mingled with the usual chaotic noise of Cairo’s medina. Raising a questioning eyebrow, Jed spawned a lazy grin that didn’t quite reach his hard green eyes, and turned around to face his attackers.

“Damn, you really are angry, aren’t you? And here I had just about given up hope of finding any more excitement tonight...at least before I went to bed. But if you boys want to fight, despite the fact that I told your little sister she was too young for me and sent her on her way, then I’ll be more than happy to oblige,” Jed drawled. Knowing these Egyptians didn’t care about explanations, he stretched his long, muscular frame so that he appeared even larger, his stand obviously taken.

Senses heightened, he noted a sudden absence of noise in the bazaar. Even the snake charmer’s melody was silenced. Most of those who had been outdoors only a moment before had sought refuge from the impending melee behind the shutters of the small shops squeezed together along the narrow, twisting alleyway. Absently, Jed brushed back a wayward lock of dark brown hair from his forehead and raised his fists, readying his body for the onslaught to follow.

He wasn’t disappointed. All at once, three men clad in gallabiyas charged at him, and Jed’s powerful forearms made contact with the midsection of one Egyptian before he whirled to face another.

Though Kincaid’s stance was easy and graceful as he delivered blow after blow, his steps swayed slightly, a result of the zabeeb he had been imbibing rather than any damage he sustained from the brawl itself. After all, there were only three of them, and Jed Kincaid had oftentimes discovered himself in much worse scrapes.

Somehow, trouble usually managed to find Jed, and when it didn’t, he went looking for it. While others not born in Egypt might spend their time sequestered in their own sectors, which were nothing more than transplanted slices of their homelands, the dark-haired American preferred to experience everything foreign shores had to offer. In fact, after two grueling months in the desert, Jed had yearned to avail himself of the sweet pleasures of the Middle East. But even he hadn’t hoped for an evening as entertaining as this promised to be with its drinking, its brawling, and his still undaunted intentions of finding some passionate desert blossom to share his bed.

Prodded by the one appetite he had yet to satisfy, Jed savagely thrust his elbow to the rear and was pleased to hear a grunt. Fights like this one reminded him of the constant tussles he and his brothers had indulged in while growing up in the woods of Kentucky. Steeped for a moment in boyhood memories, Jed barely managed to evade a lethal blade before he cautioned himself that there was one important difference between this and the scuffles of his childhood. These boys were playing for keeps.

The realization didn’t sober him. He was a man who thrived on danger, and he decided not to allow the deadly attitude of his opponents to detract from his own enjoyment of the moment. After all, they were the ones missing out on all the fun, needlessly angry as they were. It was just a damn shame that most people didn’t know how to enjoy life and its many challenges.

That thought foremost in mind, Jed threw himself with greater abandon into subduing the three Egyptians. After a few more minutes of exertion, one man lay groaning at Jed’s feet while another was heaped over a pile of baskets. Two down and one to go, Jed noted with satisfaction. If the third assailant had any sense, he would learn a lesson from what had befallen his companions. But as the man lunged at him with renewed rage, Jed concluded that this fellow was no brighter than the other two. Couldn’t the idiot understand that he hadn’t approached the girl, that she had tried quite unsuccessfully to solicit him?

Now that the first blush of excitement had worn off, an impatient Jed decided to dispatch his remaining attacker quickly. Heaving a sigh, he sent the Cairene a wallop that had to have loosened some teeth, and received a blow to the jaw in return. Crouching and coming in suddenly under a fist meant for his head, Jed grabbed the Egyptian, wrapping his hands around the unfortunate man’s throat while he heaved him against the wall of a small brassware shop. The gallabiya- clad villain landed heavily, scattering neatly displayed brass plates, tables, vases and coffee sets with a loud clatter.

Satisfied that the Egyptian wouldn’t be getting to his feet for quite a while, Jed wiped the dust from his hands and turned away. Now that the fracas had been settled, he had no intention of being in the vicinity should the local police arrive anytime soon. After all, he still had one very pressing need that remained unfulfilled.

Setting forth with a determined glint in his dark green eyes, Jed had gone no more than a half-dozen steps when he heard an excited voice filling the narrow alleyway.

“English! Wait! Wait, English!”

Jed kept going. Whatever it was, it had nothing to do with him, and he had things other than curiosity on his mind at the moment. Yet, as he made ready to round the corner of the twisting street wending its way through the middle of the bazaar, the voice became louder and more insistent, until suddenly it was punctuated by the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps.

Muttering a curse, Jed readied himself for another fight, be it with recovered assailant or arresting police in pursuit. Damn! Didn’t these people have better things to do, he asked himself in annoyance?

But the sight that greeted his eyes when he turned around was neither constable nor thug. It was, however, one very irate Egyptian, a shopkeeper from the looks of him.

“English, I will have a word with you,” the man demanded indignantly when he reached Jed.

“Say, you’re not talking to me, are you?” Jed asked with exasperation as he sized up this newfound obstacle to the pleasure beckoning him like the song of a siren across a turbulent sea.

Of Bedouin extraction by the look of him, the man was almost as tall as the American he confronted. From the expression of his sharp, angular features, the merchant was agitated about something, but Jed had neither the inclination nor the patience to find out what it was.

“Yes, you, English. I am talking to you. Where do you think you are going?”

“Now, see, that’s where you make your mistake. I’m an American, not some overly civilized, staid Brit, and I guess I had better warn you that I don’t play by their silly rules of proper behavior,” Jed growled softly, angered that he had been mistaken for one of the sedate and unflappable Englishmen who had overrun the Land of the Pharaohs. “And as to where I’m headed, it’s none of your damn business.”