Desert Rogue (31 page)

Jed, embarrassed at the man's obvious sincerity, looked down at his plate as they drank to his efforts.

“Thank you,” Victoria murmured softly over her glass, her voice bidding him to gaze at her. Surprised at the watery brightness of her eyes, he took refuge in foolishness.

“Aw, shucks, folks, 'tweren't hardly nothin',” Jed twanged. His silliness made Vicky chuckle and he was pleased.

“I daresay not,” agreed Hayden, his cultured tones a deliberate contrast to Jed's exaggerated speech. “You are somewhat a creature of the desert, familiar with its ways, aren't you?”

“I suppose I've seen more of it than you have, but few men could really be at home there,” acknowledged Jed.

“Yet I understand from Hayden that you are quite fond of that sandy wasteland,” contributed Grace. “What can be appealing about such an arid, lifeless environment?”

It seemed a safe enough topic of conversation to the matron, who signaled the maids to serve the fish course. She was desperate for anything to draw the man's eyes away from Victoria. Why, his looks were so intimate, one might suspect the American was caressing the girl with his hands rather than his eyes. If Grace didn't know Victoria, she would have worried about what went on between them on their journey.

“In my experience, ma'am, the desert is best described as nature's imitation of a lovely woman, alluring with her promises yet dangerous with her wiles,” clarified Jed. “And I'm not known for refusing such temptations.”

“What an absurd notion!” judged Hayden. Startled by Jed's untoward comparison, he dropped his fish fork, sending the maid scurrying for a new one. “A woman? Don't be ridiculous.”

He had never really analyzed the appeal the desert held for him before, but Jed had to concede that he loved the untamed nature of the sandy planes, a wilderness which had given him Vicky, if only temporarily. The fact that such an admission clearly shocked the blazes out of Reed made it sweeter still.

“In the early morning and late evening, the desert's beauty is unsurpassed. Against the golden sands, the blues and purples of the sky are constantly changing, transmuting its vibrancy from one form to another,” explained Jed with a nod at Victoria and Grace. “Just as a lovely young girl becomes a fetching woman and, one day, a beautiful matron.”

“A change in my women I've been privileged to witness,” agreed Cameron, appreciating Jed's poetic insight.

“Like any female, the desert is amazingly soft and loving in her tender hours. Yet, but half a day later, she can be the ultimate virago, threatening to end a man's life with her harsh treatment,” continued Jed, his eyes studying Victoria.

“Oh, come now, Mr. Kincaid, surely you exaggerate,” protested Grace, flustered at the suggestive turn of the conversation.

“That's how it is with deserts,” answered Jed, not missing the high spots of color in Vicky's cheeks. “Freezing cold one minute, dreadfully hot the next. Suddenly a man finds himself amid a lush, tempting haven of exquisite promise—”

“Jed!” Vicky's voice was unusually high, but the angry set to her lips and the raging fire in her eyes were familiar signs to Jed, who grinned at her. He
had
missed their confrontations these past few days, he admitted to himself, recognizing that the spark she added to his life would be worth the aggravation of pursuing her.

“Kincaid, I hardly think such a discussion is proper with ladies present,” rebuked Hayden sharply. His neatly manicured hand reached out to pat Victoria's in a solicitous manner.

“I don't know what
you're
talking about, Reed, but oases are an integral part of the desert,” Jed said calmly. “
I
was referring to them. What could you have been imagining?”

“But— I must have misunderstood you, sir.” Realizing Jed had bested him, Hayden flushed and tried valiantly to escape the embarrassment. “Victoria, dear, did I tell you I received the confirmation of our travel plans? We depart Alexandria on the first day of October for our honeymoon.”

“It will be so much cooler in England,” agreed his fiancée, “
that
will truly be paradise.”

“Not in
my
dreams,” objected Jed, his glance lingering deliberately on Vicky's décolletage. “However, I don't suppose Hayden would consider those a matter of proper conversation, either, so perhaps I should remain silent.

“This is my home, Jed, and you are more than welcome to speak,” invited Cameron, sending Hayden a quelling glance. “I have heard you say nothing askance. In fact, I would love to hear the true account of Sheik Nabar's amulet. It's made you a legend.”

“Notoriety is fleeting,” murmured Hayden. Annoyed at Shaw's willingness not only to entertain such scum as Kincaid but flatter him as well, he hoped for a quick end to the evening. However, after tonight, neither he nor Victoria need be troubled by the boor again, he consoled himself.

“But not dullness, eh, Reed? You're stuck with that for life,” countered the American.

“Jed, the story,” Victoria prompted. Wishing for a few minutes' peace, she missed Hayden's surprised look as her eyes pleaded with Jed to behave.

He nodded imperceptibly and launched into the tale as the servants removed their empty plates and brought the entrée of stuffed waterfowl. The night began to fly by as even Ali entered the conversation, recounting Jed's attempts to negotiate with the foreman of the quarries north of Khartoum.

To Jed's disappointment, however, as soon as dessert was finished, Mrs. Shaw rose and signaled her daughter.

“If you will excuse us, we'll leave you to your brandy and conversation while Victoria and I stroll in the gardens.”

“Mother, I'd just as soon—”

“Nonsense, Victoria. You know your father prefers time for the men to talk alone.”

Victoria studied her mother's firmly set mouth and nodded. Though she worried about Jed and Hayden's continued animosity, perhaps her digestion would be easier apart from her fiancé's unceasing scowls.

“Hayden,” said Cameron as the women left, “tell us what the government is doing with the new appointments at the consulate.”

Obediently, Reed began to explain the British position even as Jed's eyes followed Victoria out. It was no accident when, a short while later, the American excused himself, claiming he had a hankering to view the Nile from the estate's vast lawn. When Hayden rose to join him, however, Ali began a barrage of questions concerning the role of Britain in Egypt that forced the frustrated diplomat to remain where he was rather than appear rude to Shaw's guest.

Stifling a smile at his friend's clever ploy, Jed moved quickly across the grass in search of mother and daughter. Within a few minutes he had found them.

“Oh, dear! I didn't think you men would be finished so soon,” Mrs. Shaw exclaimed when she looked up to see him. “We'd best get back, Victoria. We wouldn't want to appear remiss as hostesses.”

“Yes, Mother,” the girl replied. Unwilling to look at Jed for concern over what such a glance might reveal, she was startled to feel his restraining hand on her arm.

“It is true Mr. Shaw was wondering where you were, ma'am,” Jed politely, if untruthfully, informed the matron, keeping his almost, but not quite proper, hold on Vicky. “Do you mind, however, if your daughter shows me the roses? It won't take but a minute, and she spoke of them so frequently in the desert—”

“But—”

“A moment, Mrs. Shaw, and we will rejoin you, I promise.”

“I suppose it would be all right. How can I deny you such a request after all you've done for us?” the older woman said, though her reluctance was obvious. “Just don't be too long. We wouldn't want to make Hayden unnecessarily jealous,” she added with a trill of laughter that did little to hide how serious she was.

The instant Mrs. Shaw's back was turned, Jed looped his arm through Victoria's and led her behind a dense planting of trees.

“The roses are that way,” she murmured, trying to pull away.

“Hang the roses,” Jed said, his voice grown husky and low. “You left Hayden's office without giving me a real kiss goodbye, Vicky. You owe me that much.”

“I don't want to kiss you!”

“If you really loved your fiancé, you wouldn't be afraid to,” Jed purred triumphantly.

“I'm not afraid.”

“Prove it.”

“All right, I—” Victoria began, only to have her response cut short as Jed's hard mouth descended on hers, and remained.

“Tell me again how much you love Reed,” he challenged, finally releasing her from his embrace, victory imprinted on his face.

“I do!”

“You're a sweet liar,” Jed said with a deep laugh before taking her arm to escort her back to the others.

All too soon after that, the evening Jed had dreaded was over and he was at the door. As he took Victoria's hand in his own to bid her goodbye, he realized such a feat was beyond even his talents. This dinner and the kiss he'd stolen had only made him determined to change her mind about her marriage.

Ali had been right. She was a woman worth fighting for, even if the necessary combat would occur in ballrooms, formal gardens and drawing rooms. Over the next few weeks, Jed promised himself, smiling warmly at Victoria, Hayden Reed would learn that the woman he considered his own was not.

* * *

The next morning found Hayden in a particularly foul humor as he approached his office later than was his custom. Not only had he been forced to share the Shaw carriage with Kincaid last night, but he awoke troubled by Victoria's peculiar manner during that dinner.

Initially inclined to dismiss her puzzling demeanor as a result of her abduction, he had not been prepared for her unusually assertive behavior, disagreeing with his opinions and even contradicting his wishes. Why, twice in the course of the evening, Victoria had even kissed him, inaugurating the act in front of her parents and the others and precipitating a distinct uneasiness in Hayden's breast. After her time in a slaver's mart, he would have expected her to be more readily submissive, he mused, wondering what had really occurred over those three weeks.

Seeing that Victoria had suffered through quite an ordeal, being rescued from one savage by another, perhaps it was only natural that she had forgotten herself. Still, as a rising diplomat, Hayden Reed needed a wife who would be a loving helpmate, not a free-spirited female who might raise objections to the life he had so carefully arranged—or pry into
his
affairs.

Entering his outer office, the consular agent frowned in irritation at his assistant's absence. His dismay trebled, however, when he discovered his superior, Charles Cookson, behind Hayden's own desk, shuffling through files.

“I trust you don't mind, Reed. I sent your man on an errand.”

“No, certainly not, sir,” acquiesced Hayden, struggling to hide his anxiety at the unexpected visit. “I do think we might be more comfortable in the chairs over here by the window.”

“Nonsense, but don't stand on my account. Sit down.”

Uneasy with the command, Victoria's fiancé seated himself nonetheless in one of the seats facing his desk.

“Tell me, Reed, is it your usual habit to arrive in so tardy a manner when you've no appointments on your calendar?” inquired the senior consular agent, examining the bound book on the desk.

“Of course not, sir. I—I had an early meeting this morning at the Shaw estate to learn if Victoria had recalled anything else of significance to include in my report of the rescue. Holmes should have noted that on my schedule,” lied Hayden. Mentally, he made careful inventory of his excuse. He had found it essential in diplomatic circles to remember exactly which truth or variation thereof one used with whom. As with most of his tales, this was not completely untrue, simply altered slightly from the facts.

“And how is your fiancée?” asked Cookson, watching the younger man closely. “I trust she is recovering nicely.”

“Yes, sir. She is still rather shaken from the events—and from dealing with Jed Kincaid, I fear. In truth, his manner is not that of a proper gentleman, even under the best of circumstances.”

“Don't like the chap much, do you, Reed?” observed the senior diplomat. Fluent in Arabic and respectful of the culture in which he lived, Cookson had little use for men like Reed who considered themselves and the British way of life superior to all others.

“No, sir, I cannot say that I do,” admitted Hayden, surprised that Cookson understood but relieved to speak the words publicly nonetheless. “I find the American an uncouth blowhard who delights in singing his own praises and doing little else—”

“Is that why you failed to tell me of his suspicions regarding the appearance of a Mahdi and the amassing of weapons?” charged Cookson. His voice was suddenly so sharp it could have easily flayed the skin from Hayden's back. “Well? I asked you a direct question, Reed. Answer it.”

“No, sir, Kincaid never said—” began Hayden, quickly changing his words as he measured Cookson's narrowing eyes. “That is, he made some ridiculous claims about what he had seen, but in good conscience I did not wish to waste your time.”

“Oh?”

“You know how one group or another of these natives is always threatening a revolt that never occurs, diminishing our meager resources with fruitless investigations of unsubstantiated rumors.” Trying unobtrusively to loosen his collar, Hayden swallowed deeply. “Why should we believe this is any different?”

“I don't know that it is, but it is not your job to censor reports meant for my office. If I decide the material is worthless, it will not reach the consul general, but that is
my
decision, not
yours!
” rebuked Cookson, his face flushed with fury. “You, Reed, are a junior officer who takes orders. Do I make myself sufficiently clear or need I write this up for your file?”