from here, you’re going to take me to Beth.”
“Of course,” Mauve said, and there was a strange tone to her voice. “I think you should know—”
“And once I get my hands on this desert Don Juan, he’s going to rethink his kidnapping ways. My sister is an innocent in the ways of men, but I’m not. Heck, how many wives does this sheik have already?”
“My brother has not yet taken a wife. When he does, he will marry only one woman.” The male voice was smooth, silky and edged with steel. “Perhaps your sister would be better served if you left your cartoon ideas about my country behind you.”
Amelia knew that to open her eyes would bring pain, but she opened them nonetheless. The pounding started right behind her lids, and it wasn’t helped at all by the hot flush of blood that suffused her cheeks. Her words had been rash and angry, and unfair.
“I didn’t hear you come in,” she said, staring at the man who’d helped her in the airport. She’d begun to believe that she might have imagined him, but there he stood, more than six feet tall, broad shoulders and slim hips, all encased in an Armani suit the color of desert sand. It did everything to show off his natural olive complexion and the glint of his dark brown eyes.
“I tried to give you a heads up,” Mauve said smugly, “but you wouldn’t let me get a word in edge-wise.”
“Beth would tell you it’s one of my worst character flaws,” Amelia said. “I’m sorry.” She continued to look at the handsome man, who felt no need to hide his irritation with her. “I owe you an apology also. And your brother. You’re right, I don’t know him.”
Harad Dukhan nodded. A change shifted over his face, seemingly as if he willed his anger to dissipate. He stepped closer to the bed. “I’ve spoken with the doctor. You were deliberately poisoned, Ms. Corbet. The dose was probably not meant to be fatal. For some reason, someone wanted you immobilized in the airport. Can you think why that would be so?”
Amelia watched Harad Dukhan very closely as he spoke. He was trying hard to be casual, but there was a tension to the man that told her he felt otherwise. She wasn’t a scientist, and she hadn’t spent the last ten years studying ancient ruins, but she was a damn good judge of human nature, and Harad Dukhan was hiding something.
“I never carry cash or jewels. I brought one bag with a few clothes.” She started to shake her head, but the motion made her head pound harder. “No one even knew I was coming here,” she finally said. “I left without notifying anyone in my office. I’d hoped to see Beth, make sure she was okay and get on to Paris before anyone even noticed I’d dropped out of sight for a night.”
“Someone noticed,” Harad said.
“Is my sister safe?” Amelia asked.
Harad nodded. “As safe as she can possibly be. My brother would give his life to protect her, and he’s a fierce warrior when it comes to the people and things he loves.”
“I have to see her. As soon as possible,” Amelia said.
“We can discuss it,” Harad said, “when you are fully recovered.”
Chapter Two
Harad wanted only to close his eyes, open them, and find that he was not in a hospital room with the blond, willful and very American Amelia Corbet. Though she was one of the most attractive women he’d ever seen—and he’d made it a point to see a lot of women—she was opinionated, bossy and without the first hint of manners. So many women, when they stepped into the business world, lost their femininity. Amelia Corbet would walk over a man and never even look back to see if her spiked heels had left holes in the body.
Because of his brother, Harad knew Amelia was his responsibility until he could get her out of Egypt and on her way to wherever it was that she did her jet-set business. Which would be as soon as possible. He did not trust her—especially with the secrets of his people.
“How long before the doctor will release you?” he asked, forcing his voice to a level of politeness.
Mauve jumped in with the answer. “The doctor said he would come by before dinner. If Amelia’s health checks out, she can leave right after that,” she said.
Harad glanced down at his wristwatch. Maybe half an hour, but it would be the next day before she could catch a flight out. “I’ll book a room for you in the Abbula Hotel,” he offered. “And for you, Mauve. I know you’ve been at the Crescent, but I’d like you to be near Amelia if you don’t mind. The Abbula is a comfortable blend of my culture and your own, Ms. Corbet. Perhaps you won’t feel so much that you’ve been dropped in the middle of barbarians.”
He saw the flush creep over her cheeks once again and felt a dart of shame at his own conduct. At least Amelia had the upbringing to be ashamed of herself. And she had apologized. Now he had been the one to show rudeness.
“That would be lovely, Mr. Dukhan,” Amelia said with perfect grace. “But it isn’t necessary. I’m sure that I can manage in Alexandria as well as I can in any other international city.”
There was just enough challenge in her voice to make Harad smile. She was a woman of spirit, a trait he admired in both men and women. “My offer was not meant to imply that you needed assistance, only that I would like to extend the courtesy. Your first impression of my country could not possibly be favorable. I assure you that most visitors aren’t accosted in the airport. While you are here, I want you to see the best of what Alexandria has to offer.”
He could see that Amelia wasn’t fooled one little bit, but she nodded and thanked him sweetly.
A tap at the door signaled the arrival of the doctor. Mauve greeted the white-coated gentleman like an old friend, and Harad remembered that the redhead had been poisoned, too. Someone had put something in her coffee and Dr. Rashad had taken care of her—with some help from Omar. In fact, Beth Bradshaw’s entire quest to find the lost City of Con had been fraught with dangerous incidents. But Omar, Harad, Beth and the uncanny black feline, Familiar, had rounded up the men responsible for trying to injure Beth and to steal her research. Those men were behind bars.
So why had someone attacked Amelia? The question niggled in the back of his brain as he started to make his excuses and step from the room to allow the doctor time to examine Amelia.
Another tap at the door halted him. It swung wide to reveal a tall man with broad shoulders and a long stride who stepped immediately to Amelia’s side. He carried a clipboard, and his dark eyes were solemn as they examined Amelia.
“Ms. Corbet, this is Dr. Mosheen.” Dr. Rashad made the introductions. “He specializes in poisons.”
“Kaffar Mosheen,” the man said, stepping slightly in front of Harad as he took Amelia’s hand. He kissed it in a smooth, continental gesture.
“Dr. Mosheen is a botanist as well as a doctor,” Dr. Rashad explained. “He provided the antidote for you, and he’s expressed a personal interest in your case. He asked to meet you. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all,” Amelia said, turning to the taller doctor. “Thank you, Dr. Mosheen. I was very sick, but I’m feeling much better now.”
Harad felt his jaw muscles twitch at the way Amelia was smiling up into the doctor’s eyes. She was looking at him as if he had descended from heaven.
“The poison was very interesting,” Dr. Mosheen said. He leaned toward Amelia and unerringly bent to examine her neck. “The point of injection was fortunate. It missed the arteries. It is my guess that your assailant had a small ring that would spring open and reveal a tiny needle. The needle had been dipped in the poison, which is not normally lethal. My supposition is that the incident was intended to make you very sick and dizzy. You were spared much of the discomfort thanks to your friend, who acted so quickly and called an ambulance. My curiosity is aroused, though. It is a very old poison not commonly used against humans.”
“You’re