Desert Rogue (18 page)

But Vicky didn't seem to comprehend his blame in the matter. Instead, she stood on tiptoe, her hand against his cheek, coaxing his head down so that she could place her lips against his as a sign of her gratitude.

Feeling unworthy as he did, Jed could not bear Vicky's touch, let alone her kiss. He drew back from her, ignoring the look of hurt confusion in her eyes, and busied himself with replacing the saddle he had only recently removed. The pain that had sliced through his heart when he thought she would be stolen had told Jed that he could never kiss this woman again. It was too dangerous. Nor could he ever be lax with her safety. From now on, he would take every precaution available, no matter how needless it appeared to be.

“What are you doing?” Ali demanded indignantly.

“What does it look like?” Jed retorted, his voice laced with anger. “I'm getting ready to take us the hell out of here before those boys come back with some of their friends.”

“I agree we should remove ourselves from this place,” Ali continued. “But must it be so soon, before Miss Victoria has had an opportunity to properly recover from her fright?”

“I don't want to gamble on another bushwhacking,” Jed said with a calmness that belied his still-racing heart. “If that happened, there's every possibility there would be no chance for Vicky to recover—properly or otherwise. We're leaving here now.”

“Miss Victoria?” Ali questioned gently.

“It's fine, Ali,” she said, patting his hand and finding comfort in the human contact Jed had denied her. “Don't worry about me. I'm sure I'm too unsettled now to sleep or even rest, anyway.”

Grunting his approval, Jed helped Victoria mount up, and then proceeded to lead them on through the starlit night.

Taking the time to look over her shoulder as her camel followed Jed's, Victoria's keen gaze took in the remnants of the destruction they were leaving strewn across the sands. She found her heart hardened when her eyes came to rest on the corpses of the two dervishes. Had Jed not been so skilled, it might have been his body and Ali's she was leaving behind.

Turning to face front once more, she regarded Jed with a shy, sideward glance. To Victoria, his proud, chiseled profile silhouetted in the moonlight was surely one of the most beautiful sights she had ever seen. The stubble that dotted his chin was no longer repulsive to her, but merely an indication of his extreme manliness. And though he could be domineering, reckless and crude, lacking in all of the social graces she had been raised to value, Victoria Shaw had come to recognize that Jed Kincaid was quite a man in his own right. He appeared to follow some code of his own, one that was more demanding in some respects than the one society adhered to.

This night he had unselfishly risked his life for hers. The manner in which he had fought to save her might have made her think she was important to him, except for the fact that when it was all over, when she had needed to feel his masculine strength surrounding her protectively and she had attempted to show her gratitude, he had most definitely pushed her away. She didn't understand him at all, or her own reaction to him, but then there were miles of desert yet ahead.

D
espite the late hour, Hayden's office door opened without prelude and, just as quickly, slammed shut behind the unexpected intruder. About to issue a sharp reprimand to the underling who would dare behave so, Hayden looked up from the papers littering his desk. His angry words, however, caught in his throat.

“Reed—”

“I am very sorry, sir. I was planning on coming to you as soon as I assimilated these reports—”

“Neither Mrs. Shaw nor I could wait for you to build up your courage,” said Cameron Shaw coldly. A large man, Shaw gave evidence to his age only in his thinning gray hair. And, at this moment, Victoria's father was confident that his righteous fury would allow him to trounce this pompous paper pusher thirty years his junior without raising a sweat.

Finally concluding his business in Constantinople, he had returned to Cairo only today to find Victoria missing.

His wife and daughter might consider Reed quite the matrimonial catch, but it took all of Cameron's patience not to blame him for this entire situation. After all, what the hell had he done for the past twelve days other than blither about?

“Well, what have you learned concerning my Victoria?”

Recognizing the territorial challenge, Hayden deflected it easily, rising and circling the desk to confront his visitor.

“
My
fiancée was not at the oasis when my men arrived. In fact, there was no evidence to suggest Victoria was ever present. My journeying there would have been pointless, and, as I repeatedly explained to Mrs. Shaw, with my position I would have embroiled England in an international situation had I done so.”

“Did you ever hear the word
resign?
If my daughter doesn't come home soon, it would stand you in good stead to learn it. And what about the money my wife gave you? What of the vagabonds to whom you entrusted it? Can you account for them or have they vanished along with my daughter?”

“Why don't we sit down and have a drink while we talk, sir?” suggested the English diplomat. Though he and Victoria's father were of similar heights, standing during any interview made him feel threatened, reminding him of being summoned to the headmaster's office for a dressing down as a lad.

“I want answers, not gin and sympathy,” snapped Victoria's father. “Stop dithering and tell me the worst.”

“Of course, Mr. Shaw. Actually, there is no worst. I mean, it is true that Victoria has not been found, but we believe that she has been taken to Khartoum—”

“Khartoum? The white slaver's paradise?” Cameron's voice echoed his horror as he sank into a chair. His daughter in such a place? Why then was this idiot standing here so calmly?

“The city does have that reputation, but, remember, the man on the trail of the kidnappers is Jed Kincaid, the same chap who squelched a tribal war. He is quite resourceful in tight situations and eminently qualified for survival in the desert,” assured Hayden, praying his sources were valid. “Believe me, I would never have relied on anyone else to rescue my fiancée.”

“Then you knew of Kincaid's qualifications before you sent him, did you? My wife did not mention that,” admitted Shaw, daring to hope a little.

“Well, frankly, sir, Kincaid's reputation as an adventuring scoundrel is not one I would discuss with a lady like Mrs. Shaw,” sidestepped the government employee.

“So then, what is Kincaid doing now?”

“I believe he has pursued Victoria—”

“Don't you know for a fact?”

“I must remind you that once the kidnappers left Egypt for the Sudan, this was no longer a matter for British involvement. Though Egyptian influence extends farther south, ours does not. Besides, Mohammed Rauf Pasha, the governor general of the Sudan, is totally ineffectual in monitoring Khartoum. He would be of no help. I have, however, done what I could. Calling on favors past due, I sent a few men after Kincaid to explore the site at which he was to deliver the ransom. They found three natives dead and a message from the American, mentioning Khartoum.” Unfortunately, reflected Hayden, taking a sip of water, Kincaid's words had not been enough to make him confident of Victoria's safety.

“So, then, your men continued south to meet up with Kincaid and lend him a hand?” prompted Cameron Shaw.

“No, sir, they returned here to brief me.”

“Damn! That's valuable time wasted when they could have been there already.”

“I violated governmental regulations just sending them that far, Mr. Shaw. Their instructions were merely to observe and report back to me. To tell the truth, I expected Victoria to be safely home by the time those men returned to Cairo, but—”

“Send them now. By river they could be there in—”

“It would do no good. Khartoum may be under the nominal jurisdiction of the khedive, but the man is powerless,” protested Hayden.

“I shall contact Tewfik myself—”

“To issue Tewfik a challenge like saving Victoria when he stands no possibility of succeeding could topple his government altogether, Mr. Shaw.” When he did not reply, Hayden dared to continue. “Kincaid, if my men read the evidence accurately, killed three men without assistance. That makes him a pretty impressive weapon.”

“Just because he's an expert at defending himself doesn't mean he can rescue Victoria. He has to find her, for pity's sake.”

“I suspect he already has,” said Hayden.

“And if you are wrong?”

“We shall know shortly. I warrant Kincaid will be returning with Victoria sometime in the next week.”

“Fleeing from Khartoum, there can't be many routes back to Cairo. Surely you can send men out to find them as they cross the border into Egypt, should they be lucky enough to get that far.”

“If they are on the run, Kincaid will make certain his party is not found until he wishes it to be. No, we have only to be patient and Victoria will be in our arms in a matter of days.”

“You told my wife that nearly two weeks ago. I hope your expectations are more reliable this time.” Without extending his hand, Shaw started for the door, then turned and spoke, his voice deadly still.

“So help me, Reed, if you are wrong about this—or about Kincaid's reliability—I will personally have your head on a silver platter, not to mention your career. Make no mistake. My daughter is more precious to me than my own life, though I doubt a court would convict a father of avenging his daughter's mistreatment.”

“And when she
is
returned safely as I am certain she will be?” challenged Hayden.

“As a man of honor, I shall apologize for doubting you and welcome you into my family,” acceded Shaw.

Then Victoria's father was gone from the room and Hayden settled shakily into his chair, resting his head in his hands. Please God, he prayed, let Kincaid know what he's doing, for Victoria's sake, and my own.

* * *

Victoria was hot, thirsty and tired, not that any of those states was unfamiliar after the last few days. Indeed, she could not imagine a scenario more taxing than the one she was living.

In her weakest moments, wondering if they would ever reach civilization again, the blonde found herself doubting that life as a slave could be any worse. True, Kincaid did not crack a whip or throw her down in the sand to ravage her body, but since their encounter with the dervishes, their fragile truce had disintegrated so that Jed barely spoke to her anymore. All he was interested in now was returning her to her home as quickly as possible.

There he sat, appearing even taller than usual the way he perched ramrod straight atop his beast of burden, as calm as if he were riding his green hills of Kentucky on a thoroughbred. Victoria had to admire Jed's determination, though she prayed daily for him to falter in his enthusiasm just a little. After all, she and Ali were not the experienced desert travelers he was, and his drive was killing them.

At the moment, for some unknown reason, the American had halted his camel and sat staring off to the west. Surprised that anything could distract Jed from his pursuit of the next oasis, Victoria shaded her eyes and looked in the same direction. However, she saw nothing unusual other than a very faint cloud far off in the distance. That was surely a reason to rejoice, not worry. If it didn't signal an oasis, it might provide some shade from the brutal sun.

“Jed, is something wrong?” A deep worry line creased his normally smooth brow and the sight of it startled her. Rarely had she seen the American perturbed, even amid the chaos of Khartoum.

“I think that's a storm bearing down on us. It could be quite dangerous out here in the open if we're not prepared. Ali, we'll stop and take no chances—”

“A storm? Even I know it doesn't rain in the desert this time of year,” scoffed Victoria as Jed urged his camel to its knees.

“Not rain, Vicky, a sandstorm, and, believe me, wind-propelled grains of sand flaying every inch of your skin until you can't see or breathe is not an experience you'll relish. Hopefully I'm wrong, though we had better be ready just in case.”

“It seems distant,” she protested, twisting about to look at the dust cloud. To her surprise, it was much larger than it had been minutes ago. “Oh, I think you're right. It's growing.”

“There's no time to waste. Fetch the blankets while Ali and I try to position these beasts to provide us with a wind screen of sorts,” Jed instructed, forcing her camel to kneel and helping her down. Victoria immediately set about doing as he requested. “Ali, if we set them head to rump, in a triangle, they should shield us from the worst of the sand.”

“I have heard of such shelters,” agreed the Egyptian. He alighted awkwardly, his shoulder still stiff, then struggled to turn his camel as Jed indicated. “I have never been in a sandstorm, but, Allah preserve us, it is one more experience I will have to share with Fatima when I reach home.”

“What protects the animals?” asked Victoria.

“Don't worry about the camels. They are bred to handle the hazards of the desert,” advised the Egyptian, sympathetic as ever to her compassion, though Jed snorted.

“With their shaggy hides and protective eyelids, the camels are far better off than we are. Judging from how quickly the sky is darkening,” he cautioned, “our lives are the ones in peril.”

“It can't be as bad as you make it sound.”

“You'll see soon enough. For now, crouch down on the ground and flatten yourself against the camel in as small a ball as you can. Wrap the blanket tightly around your body. If the wind grabs even a corner, it will whip it away and you'll be exposed to sand so coarse that it can scar.”

Watching the fear grow in her eyes, Jed regretted his harsh warning, but he couldn't chance her being careless, not when his own distraction had nearly cost her life earlier. Gently he pulled the hood of her
gallabiya
up over the soft hat crowning her hair and tucked a few errant curls inside, his fingers lingering on her smooth cheek. “I didn't mean to upset you, but the desert is a hostile enough environment. In a storm, I can't afford to take any chances where you are concerned, Vicky.”

Struggling to answer his unexpected kindness with a small smile, Victoria marveled that this was the ogre who had bullied her on the trail, only to shut her out completely when she had tried to thank him for saving her life. Yet he had allowed her to continue to sleep beside him each night, stealing his body's warmth. The desert sun may have toughened her, but it had softened him, she reflected, bewildered that a man who could treat her so coolly would be so conscientious about her welfare. Then, before she could voice her thoughts, Ali sounded the alarm.

“Jed, you can barely see the sun. Get ready, Victoria.”

Obediently, she dropped to the sand and rolled herself in the tightly woven cloth, crawling over to where the camels lay.

“Vicky, keep your eyes closed and cover your face. No matter what, don't let go of that blanket. I'm right beside you.”

Then she could hear nothing but a deep throbbing that slowly escalated to a howl. She squeezed her eyes shut as Jed had instructed, but still she sensed the sudden darkness, the terrible heaviness of the air. It was a thousand times worse than the tension before a thunderstorm when she wanted to scream for relief, but here it was the wind screaming and she unmoving and silent.

The fierce gale tugged at her covering, pulling it one way and then the other, teasing its corners, tempting every strand, unseen fingers trying to snatch the prize from her weary grasp. All at once, she felt the first vicious sting of the sand. Penetrating the blanket, it peppered her face like bits of railway grit, sneaking in through a private parlor car's window. This assault, however, was more constant and came from all directions.

“Oh,” she cried, shifting position to try to shield more of her body from nature's onslaught. Unhappily, that futile attempt was all the storm needed. Suddenly the blanket was gone, whipped away to dance on the wind. “Ali, help me. Jed—”

“Damnation!”

She had called for Ali first, Jed realized even as he reacted, leaving his own safety behind to care for her. Hurriedly, he kicked free of his own cocoon, abandoning it to the storm. Unable to see for the flying sand, he moved by instinct to where Vicky lay, exposed to the elements. In an instant, he was over her, sheltering her body with his, consoling her with gentle words.

“I'm here, Vicky, I'll protect you. It's all right, Ali,” he yelled, hoping his voice would reach the Egyptian before the gusts garbled its message. “You stay where you are.”

Spitting out the unwelcome grains of sand, Jed buried his face in the hood of Victoria's
gallabiya.

“Stay still, Vicky, we'll ride it out together,” he urged, his voice muffled by cloth, wind and sand.

Yet, even in the midst of the horrific storm, Jed received recompense for sheltering Victoria's body with his. His face buried against her neck, he became aware of her scent. It was like the sweetest flower, uniquely, specially her, so that the rugged American judged his efforts trifling when compared to his reward.