Desert Rogue (13 page)

“All right, Kincaid,” she said accusingly, her voice so raspy it sounded as if it belonged to a stranger, “where is—”

“Where's what?” Jed drawled when Victoria's little mare suddenly reared and began to stamp impatiently, its neophyte rider fighting to control it. “The oasis?”

With a laugh, he nodded to the small pool of water and patch of greenery below them. “I told you we'd be camping here for the night.”

“It was mere luck that you happened upon such a place,” Victoria grumbled in an unladylike fashion, struggling to keep her mount from rushing down the incline to drink. Though she, herself, wanted nothing so much as to do the same thing, she would roast in hell, a location that could be no hotter than this desert, before she allowed Jed Kincaid to see how desperately she relished the idea of cold water trickling down her dry throat.

“Luck, hell!” Jed all but spat out the words.

“I don't appreciate your language,” she snapped, ignoring the unacceptable phrases that had been running through her own mind.

“And evidently you don't appreciate my skill in leading you to this oasis, either.”

“Your so-called skill has nothing to do with it,” Victoria stated calmly. “This is simply God's answer to my prayers these last few horrible hours.”

“Listen, lady,” Jed announced with deadly impatience, “you'd better understand once and for all that I'm the answer to your prayers—at least until I get you back to Cairo.”

“If that's so, then God does, indeed, work in mysterious ways,” Victoria retorted. “However, I am not going to waste time arguing with you now. There'll be plenty of opportunity for that later.” She ran the tip of a pink tongue over dry lips while she eyed the beckoning water below. “At the moment, I plan on refreshing myself after that brutal ride you forced me to endure.”

“In all likelihood, that
brutal
ride saved your life,” Jed replied, keeping pace with the mare as they descended from the ridge. Hell's fire, he had expected praise, not more carping, for bringing them to the oasis, and he was damn well going to get what he deserved. “A little gratitude might be in order.”

“Gratitude?” Victoria asked in genuine surprise. “When we could have stayed aboard that boat and suffered none of today's hardships?”

“I told you before, our pursuers might have overtaken
that boat,
” Jed pronounced in the superior tones of a man who had plenty of experience with escaping from dangerous situations. “That's why I sent the
falucca
downriver—to keep them busy chasing it until the damn thing ran aground somewhere. By then, they'd have no idea of where we disembarked.”

“I believe thrown overboard is the correct phrasing, at least in my case,” Victoria interjected dryly.

“Call it what you will,” came the gruff reply. “It enabled us to lose the good citizens of Khartoum and bought us time for our flight through the desert. If it had just been Ali and me, I would have chanced outrunning them and stayed on the river. But I couldn't count on fighting off a slew of avenging Sudanese while protecting you at the same time.”

“You mean there's something that might be beyond your capabilities?” Victoria asked with a sweetness that sent Jed's blood to boiling. “Oh, dear, to think I've been deluded all this time. I'm shattered.”

“Listen here, Vicky, I don't like being stuck with you any more than you like being saddled with me. I was on my way to something really important before I got sidetracked into coming after you.”

“Important? What was it?” she cooed. “Drinking yourself into oblivion or crawling into some unfortunate woman's bed?”

“Never you mind what it was!” Jed growled, stung by the accuracy of Victoria Shaw's guess. Suddenly what had seemed like a perfectly fine idea during his last evening in Cairo had been made to sound sordid and common by her cultured voice. Well, he'd had enough of this blue-blooded filly prancing around with her nose in the air, and he had no compunctions in telling her so.

“For God's sake,” he started, once more surprised at her ability to ruffle him. “Here I am arguing with you when I'm more parched than I ever remember being. If there's one thing I've learned today, it's that you're the most exasperating, distracting female I've ever had the misfortune to meet.”

“Distracting! I kept my thoughts to myself for quite some time this afternoon,” Victoria protested indignantly as the impatient horses finally reached the perimeter of the oasis. Sliding gratefully from her saddle, she afforded Jed an unobstructed view of her gauze-encased thighs, and the word
distracting
took on a meaning quite different from the one he had originally intended.

Feeling as though a mule had kicked him forcefully enough to knock the wind out of him, Jed swallowed hard. Vicky had the longest, shapeliest legs!

Then Jed shook his head as if to clear it, and dismounted, telling himself sternly that his arousal had nothing to do with Victoria Shaw's charms. It was only the result of having been without a woman for a long time, of having his quest for a female so abruptly interrupted during his last night in Cairo.

But feeling as anxious as some young buck who had never lain with a woman and was chomping at the bit to do so was almost beyond his comprehension. He hadn't realized he was that desperate.

Oh, he might have teased her and made her blush, Jed admitted, but he certainly hadn't meant anything by it. Had he? No, he quickly decided, trying to keep his wariness of this blonde bit of femininity in check. After all, as prim and proper as she was, she probably had no idea of what it was to be a woman. In fact, judging by her tastes in fiancés, he was sure of it. And, besides, virgins were not to his taste. He liked his women unrestrained and a little bit wild.

“Here, Kincaid,” Victoria said, unaware of the direction the American's thoughts had taken as she casually handed him her horse's reins and began walking toward the water with a light step.

“Whoa! One minute,
Queen
Victoria,” Jed commanded, coming around to block her path and look down on her with a threatening glare. While he blamed his anger on her attitude, he suspected that it was fueled, too, by the unsettling impact she had on him. Yet, affect his manhood as she might, she gave no indication that she saw him as a man at all. It fact, it appeared she considered him as nothing more than an irritating though necessary servant.

“What is it?” Victoria asked haughtily, so put out at having her intentions thwarted that she missed the fiery glint in Jed's eyes.

“What do you call your butler?” he asked so softly that his lips hardly appeared to move, a sign that Jed Kincaid was choked with anger.

“What!” Victoria exclaimed, quite obviously taken aback. She began to consider the possibility that the American had been out in the sun so long that he had gone quite mad. A Jed Kincaid more insane than the one who had climbed over the walls of the slave pen to find her, who had nearly killed the two of them with the explosives he had ordered set off? On top of everything else she would have to handle that, as well? It was too much.

“I asked what you called your butler,” Jed repeated, coming ominously closer so that Victoria was forced to look up at him. Yet no matter how ferocious his features, it was a view more preferable than staring straight at his muscular chest, its fine mat of hair peeping out over the deep, open neckline of his shirt.

“Hawkins,” she replied, wondering what Kincaid was up to.

“Why?” he demanded. His face came closer to hers.

“Obviously because that's his name.”

“Why not Mr. Hawkins?” Jed pressed. His breath was hot upon her cheeks as he continued to hold her captive with his incensed stare.

“Don't be foolish,” Victoria said with impatience. “One simply doesn't address one's butler as Mr., or any other household servant for that matter. Now, do remove yourself from my path, Kincaid, and tend to the horses while I get a drink.”

“There you go again, Vicky. Listen to yourself—calling me Kincaid as though I'm your damnable butler, as though I'm a servant. Let's set things straight once and for all. Out here, you are superior to no one, least of all me. From now on, you'll call me Mr. Kincaid, or Jed if you prefer. But more important, you'll do your share of the work, the way I told you back at the cliffs, and you'll stop expecting me to wait on you. Do I make myself clear?” he asked, catching her jaw in his long, strong fingers and forcing Victoria's gaze to remain with his own.

“Quite,” she said curtly. “But I'm afraid it will have to be Jed. Mr. is a title reserved for a gentleman. It wouldn't do in your case.”

“Suit yourself,” the American said with an indolent grin, releasing his hold on her and finding immense satisfaction in the scowl that twisted her pretty little mouth. “Jed will be just fine. Unsaddle the mare and then water the horses. They can have what's left in the skins we're carrying, that is, unless you don't mind them lapping from that pool over there before we do.”

“Can't I have a drink first?” she insisted.

“Out in the desert, it's wiser to take care of your animals before seeing to your own needs,” Jed pronounced. “These horses might mean the difference between life and death. As it is, it's going to be tough on them when there's no oasis to be had. Pamper them while you can.”

“But—”

“If I'm going to teach you to survive out here, I'm going to do it right. I want you to know how to handle yourself if anything should happen to me before we get back.”

“The only danger you face is my killing you,” Victoria declared, standing her ground defiantly.

“Stop your complaining and get to it, Vicky, before I think of something else for you to do, something you might find a pleasure instead of a chore.”

“You truly are a beast, Kincaid,” Victoria muttered with disdain, apprehensively eying the docile mare, now snorting and skittish in anticipation of being watered.

“It's
Jed,
remember?” he asked, taking a threatening step in her direction. Victoria scurried to do as he had commanded. The self-satisfied laughter that followed her retreat rankled the blonde, and she called out defiantly over her shoulder, “And while I'm laboring, just what will you be doing, your lordship?”

“Me? I'll be seeing to Ali, unsaddling my stallion and setting up camp,” he answered, discovering just how much he enjoyed the sight Victoria made as she bent over to peer under the mare's belly in search of the buckle on the saddle's cinch. No matter how exasperating she was when she opened her mouth, he concluded in spite of himself, Vicky did have the most nicely rounded derriere!

Curious at the unnatural silence behind her, Victoria glanced back sharply over her shoulder and caught Jed staring. She stood up abruptly, her sun-reddened cheeks turning a deeper crimson.

“You really are no gentleman. Hayden would certainly never dream of behaving so poorly,” she informed him.

“Yeah, and he didn't dream of coming after you, either,” Jed said with an easy shrug of his broad shoulders as he unhitched the travois and gently lowered the Cairene to the ground.

“You bastard!” Victoria muttered, finally undoing the cinch and staggering under the weight of the mare's saddle.

“Tsk, tsk! It was supposed to be Mr. Kincaid or Jed. Bastard was never an option,” Jed replied. He hunkered down at the edge of the water to fill a canteen for Ali. “Really, Vicky, such language is very unladylike. I'm surprised at you.”

“If I'm in your company much longer I'm apt to forget everything I've ever learned about being a lady,” Victoria shot back, furious with herself for allowing this man to push her into losing her temper and to ignore her upbringing.

“That could prove mighty interesting,” Jed said with a wicked grin. He handed the canteen to Ali, who had recovered sufficiently to hold it for himself. “Start behaving wantonly and I've an idea that as hot as today has been, tomorrow could be hotter still.”

“You are impossible—so crudely salacious,” Victoria fumed. “Hayden would never say anything so suggestive.”

“No?” Jed asked offhandedly, helping Ali to take a few feeble steps to the shade of a date palm so that he could rest in relative coolness. “Then why did you ever agree to marry him?”

A strangled, frustrated scream was the only reply as the mare, its mouth still buried in the water skin, snorted, sending a spray of malodorous water all over Victoria. Suddenly Jed Kincaid found himself laughing outright, his spirits soaring for the first time since they had escaped Khartoum.

A
while later, after rubbing down the stallion as well as Ali's horse, Jed turned his attention to dressing the Egyptian's wound. Pleased to discover it was not as bad as he had at first thought, Jed nevertheless determined that Ali should restrict his movement. Such a plan, however, needed Ali's agreement, and Jed found himself hard-pressed to keep the Cairene from trying to rise.

Running a hand through his dark brown hair in frustration, Jed had almost settled upon allowing Ali to overdo, convinced it would force Ali to accept his weakened state, when Victoria joined them.

“Now, don't go poking at him, Vicky. I'm trying to get the varmint settled down, and I don't need you stirring things up again,” Jed stated, his deep tones making it quite evident he expected to be obeyed.

“Allah bless you for your kindness,” Ali interjected with a shy smile before Victoria could form a reply to Jed's gruff order. Exhausted, the Egyptian had no desire for these two foreigners to start rowing all over again. “Hard as it may be to believe, Jed Kincaid has spoken the truth. There is no need for you to see to me.”

“Quiet, you. Any more insults and you'll be sporting two bullet holes,” Jed said to Ali, but a suppressed smile was evidence that the American was glad to see the other man feeling like his usual quarrelsome self. The handsome planes of Jed's face hardened, however, when he turned to address Victoria.

“As for you, if you still have some energy left, you can make yourself useful. Gather as much of this as you can find so I can get a fire going,” he said, kicking at a clump of some unidentifiable, well-dried substance with the hard toe of his boot.

“And if I don't?”

“Then you'll have no campfire to keep the jackals at bay,” Jed replied with a casual smile. “Surely even a desert greenhorn like you realizes those critters will want to creep down to the water tonight and drink their fill.”

“It's just too bad you're one jackal the flames won't keep away,” Victoria grumbled, bending down to scoop up the odd-looking fuel. “What is this, anyway, some sort of fossilized peat or silt?”

Jed's eyes widened a fraction when he realized that the fastidious Englishwoman truly didn't know what she had in her possession. No wonder she hadn't given him more of an argument.

“No, sugar, where are you going to get anything like that in the middle of the desert?” he asked, a wide grin showing off his even white teeth and a devilish gleam lighting his eyes. Observing Ali cringing at what was to come only added to his enjoyment of the moment. “What you're holding is something conveniently left behind by the caravans that have bedded down here. It's camel dung.”

“What!” Victoria shrieked, looking down in horrified disbelief at the crumbling mass in her hands.

“In order to survive in the desert, a body has to utilize whatever the Good Lord provides.”

“And he has just provided me with an inspiration for a new way to put this to use,” Victoria muttered. She drew back her hand and flung its contents in Jed's direction. But he simply ducked and Victoria's ammunition went sailing harmlessly past him.

“You insufferable bastard,” she hissed.

“We've already had this conversation, if I recall correctly, and I'd swear we settled on your calling me Jed,” he said, amusement crinkling the corners of his eyes.

“How dare you deceive me that way? Hayden will see that you pay for this,” Victoria threatened, her fists clenched and her mouth tightly pursed.

“Hayden? Make me pay?” Jed echoed with a chuckle. “I didn't realize you were given to jesting, Vicky.”

In light of Jed's quiet laughter, the words she had uttered began to sound false and hollow even to her own ears when Victoria tried to conjure up a picture of Hayden besting Jed Kincaid. But what was she thinking of to feel such a stab of disappointment? Hayden was a fine man, a wonderful one with superior qualities that became more apparent than ever when compared with this brash American.

“I'm not of a mind to provide you with entertainment, or to bolster your already high opinion of yourself,” Victoria stated with every bit of dignity she could muster. “At least in Khartoum, when Zobeir was trying to humiliate me, he made certain I was aware of it. But you couldn't find enough decency within your black soul to do even that. After your despicable little joke, I feel more in need of a bath than ever. If you and Ali would take yourselves off to the other side of that small dune, I shall bathe now.”

“Not before I've had my fill to drink,” Jed said, indignant that despite the circumstances, Victoria Shaw managed to sound like some absolute monarch. “Besides, Ali is in no condition to be moved anywhere. If you weren't so selfish, you'd realize that.”

“You're right,” Victoria stated contritely, taking Jed by surprise so that he narrowed his eyes and studied her.

“But it is no problem,” Ali insisted. Touched by the sincerity Jed Kincaid refused to recognize, and troubled by the disappointment he saw registered on Victoria's soft features, the wounded man slowly raised himself until he was sitting upright.

“Don't be an imbecile, Ali,” Jed protested irritably. “You're not going anywhere. If Vicky wants a bath so badly, I'll go wait behind the dune. You can just turn around. She'll be able to splash to her heart's content.

“Of course...” Victoria began, not entirely happy with the situation but unwilling to abandon the fantasy of submerging herself in the beckoning waters of the oasis.

“No, it would be unthinkable,” Ali said with finality, using the tree trunk to help pull himself to unsteady feet. “It is no inconvenience to move a few yards. In fact, after being lashed to that contraption all day, I have need of a little exercise.”

“You have need of an asylum,” Jed proclaimed in disgust.

“Either you will assist me, Kincaid, or I will make my way there myself,” Ali announced obstinately.

“You're a damned fool pampering this woman,” Jed uttered in exasperation after fetching the canteens and filling them.

Stalking to the other man's side and slipping his shoulder under Ali's arm, Jed put a hand at his waist to steady the Egyptian's uneven steps.

“But what else is a man to do with a beautiful woman?” Ali asked, stiffly turning toward the mound a short distance away.

“I can think of something to do with this one,” Jed grumbled. “Too bad there are no switches to be had.”

Guilty as she was to have disturbed Ali, Victoria nevertheless breathed a sigh of relief when the duo disappeared behind the sand. Promising herself that she would make this up to the wounded Egyptian by being particularly considerate during the rest of their journey, she peered cautiously at the crest of the dune and then glanced all around. Satisfied that she was alone, Victoria began to slip out of her clothing, feeling delightfully sinful.

First she doffed the bedraggled blouse and skirt she had been wearing when she had been abducted, the skirt that brute Kincaid had slit open to her thigh. Then her hands moved to the scandalous garments Zobeir had forced upon her. Impatient to be rid of the last vestiges of Khartoum, Victoria stepped out of the diaphanous pantaloons, and her face wrinkled in distaste when she cast aside the short, bejeweled bodice.

Shivering at her nakedness in spite of the still-oppressive heat, Victoria scampered to the water's edge. Without further ado, she gingerly entered the pool.

Though not exceedingly cool, the water felt so initially to her sun-baked skin. Having it lap around her nipples evoked mysterious sensations of forbidden pleasure, and shame mingled with inexplicable longing. She blamed her odd frame of mind on her nudity beneath the open sky and washed the dust and grime of the desert from her body, startled at how sensitive parts of it had suddenly become.

Remembering Jed's departing words, she made a face. Switch indeed! she thought, submerging herself beneath the liquid's surface in order to clean her hair. Why, her bottom was so raw from those endless hours in the saddle she wouldn't be able to feel the sting of a switch, anyway. So Mr. Jed Kincaid could just keep his barbaric threats to himself. She certainly wasn't afraid of him.

Such a realization did not dismiss thoughts of the arrogant American, however. Instead, it summoned forth unwelcome images of a face so compellingly handsome that not even the stubble adorning his unshaven cheeks could detract from it. Still, pleasing as Victoria found the attractive lines of his strong jaw and straight nose, it had been Jed's eyes that both fascinated and frightened her from the start.

They were dangerous eyes, belonging to a man who answered to no one other than himself, a man so self-assured that he possessed no doubts but that his commands would be obeyed. Victoria had seen those eyes narrow in anger and glint in amusement. But no matter what his mood, there had always been a wild spark lurking in their depths that hinted at a masculine essence so strong, Victoria was drawn to it even as she was horrified by it.

It was there, too, in the easy gait of Jed's proud stride, and the carriage of his broad-shouldered, muscular frame. In fact, it was in every ounce of his being, and the realization made Victoria shudder. She had never before encountered anyone like Jed Kincaid. No wonder she didn't know how to deal with him.

* * *

He'd met her type plenty of times before, Jed fumed, lying on his back, his dark head cradled by his strong, interlocked fingers as he waited for
Queen
Victoria to finally finish her ablutions.

Yes, women as haughty and selfish as Vicky were a dime a dozen in “polite society,” and he knew exactly how to handle them. Of course, there weren't many who were quite as pretty as the woman sharing the trail with him, Jed admitted reluctantly. She was a fetching little thing. Those big blue eyes of hers and all that blond hair could drive a man to do strange things if he weren't careful. And that figure, Lord have mercy! That tight little seat and those high, firm breasts of hers just cried out to be caressed.

Jed squeezed his eyes shut, hoping to erase the unbidden images of Vicky's fiery beauty. But no matter how much effort he made, he only succeeded in bringing forth new, more erotic visions of Vicky gloriously naked, frolicking uninhibitedly in the waters of the oasis. Damnation, but the woman bedeviled him. He would have groaned aloud if Ali had not been resting at his side.

Then, a wicked grin spread slowly across his deeply tanned face. He was certain to be bothered by her for a great while unless he satisfied his curiosity and got Vicky out of his system once and for all. Surely the reality of her unclad curves could never compare to the lushness with which his woman-starved appetites endowed her in his mind's eye.

One quick look and this present, unbearable affliction would disappear. After all, he was bound to be disappointed. None of the many women of his acquaintance had ever possessed the feminine allure that his feverish brain assigned to Vicky.

Impulsively, he rolled onto his taut stomach and was about to begin inching his way to the top of the dune, answering a summons he couldn't control, when a dark hand shot out to restrain him.

“Don't, Jed,” Ali admonished. “Leave the woman in peace.”

“Oh, so Vicky has a protector now, does she?” Jed drawled with a placidity he didn't feel. Why did Ali care, unless the Egyptian, married though he was, felt drawn to Vicky, too? “There's no way you can stop me, you know.”

“She belongs to another man,” Ali reminded him, ignoring Jed's challenge.

“It might be that's something we should
both
remember,” Jed answered. He almost winced at the illogical tenor of his reply, and the harshness of his tone. Ali had been mostly unconscious since they had rescued Miss Shaw. Yet, idiotic as it was, Jed felt a stab of envy at the few friendly words the Egyptian and Vicky had shared. Why couldn't she talk to him that way?

“I do not forget,” Ali replied, affronted by Jed's unfounded insinuations. “Nor do I forget my Fatima. But you, Jed, cannot really mean to spy on the woman while she is bathing. Such an act is contemptible.”

“Vicky doesn't reckon I'm much of a gentleman, anyway, so what difference does it make?”

“Doesn't your own sense of honor tell you such spying is unworthy of you?”

“I reckon you might be right,” Jed said with a frustrated sigh. “No matter how much I try to deny what my mama taught me about being a gentleman, some of the lessons stuck. I can't be sneaky in taking advantage of that woman over yonder.”

“I knew you would agree,” Ali said, satisfaction evident in his hawklike features. It was an expression that quickly faded, however, with Jed's next words.

“Hey, Vicky, I'm coming over the top of the dune,” the American bellowed suddenly, giving Ali a triumphant look.

“Jed Kincaid, how dare you?” Victoria squawked in protest, scrunching down in the water so that the tops of her breasts were hidden, though barely. As she watched Jed's determined tread bring him closer, Victoria's slender arms immediately flew across her chest to cover her nipples, grown traitorously erect. More surprising was that when Jed reached her, the set of his mouth and the predatory expression in his eyes made a part of her yearn to unveil herself to him, to rise from the water, sleek and wet, languidly exhibiting herself for his hungry perusal.

But what insanity was this? she asked herself in sharp rebuke. She was to be married shortly to Hayden Reed, one of the most refined men who had ever lived. Angry at herself for her body's reaction to Jed's sudden appearance, she turned her wrath on him.

“What are you doing, you despicable cur? Get back behind that incline where you belong,” she ordered imperiously.

“You don't own the desert, Vicky. The way I see it, I belong anyplace I want to be,” Jed replied, his eyes casually piercing the surface of the water and dancing over what he could see of Victoria's creamy breasts. “Actually, I'm here to do you a favor.”