Desert Rogue (36 page)

The worst part of his frustration, as he shifted sheaf after useless sheaf of paper, was that it was not his fate alone hanging in the balance. It was Vicky's, as well.

A low, involuntary growl crept from Jed's throat as he thought of Vicky waiting for him at tonight's dinner party without his ever making an appearance. How had she dealt with the situation when she found out that he was a wanted man? Would she, who had already been the subject of society's scrutiny after her return from Khartoum, be able to live amid whispers and speculations concerning him? Or would she, in order to survive, simply shut him out of her world until things were settled one way or another?

The idea tore at Jed's heart and caused his breath to come fast and deep. He, who had never cared what people thought of him, was suddenly quite conscious of his reputation if only for Vicky's sake. When he came right down to it, however, his nature hadn't altered. He still possessed the savage streak that had always driven him, and he knew that he would lash out to destroy whatever stood in the way of his attempts to secure his respectability. After all, how could a man offer his name to a woman if there was a stigma attached to it?

Opening one last drawer, Jed began to explore its contents, sure, now, that he would have to break into Reed's home to find evidence enough to accuse him. Idly, his eyes moved down lists of requests for supplies and orders for the same. Large quantities of paper, ink, blank ledgers, paint, wood, rope, various foodstuffs and wines. Not only was Hayden in charge of the ordering, but the disbursement, as well. Goods seemed to be constantly flowing in from England and the Continent, stored for a few days at most, and then distributed, all at Hayden Reed's direction.

Though there was nothing ominous about such duties, something began to foment in the back of Jed's mind, and he started to read through the orders more carefully. He noted ships and dates, the expenditures for supplies, and the method of transport. He looked and searched and studied the paper again. Yet not a damn bit of it pertained to the smuggling. And then he saw it, the location of the warehouse where all of these goods were kept until they could be sent elsewhere. It was the same place that had seen Yosef Ahmed's murder. It had been in front of him all the time. Reed's consular duties gave him every opportunity to smuggle in weapons and casually send them on their way to the Sudan.

With the watchman's testimony unavailable, however, it would be difficult to prove. Perhaps that was exactly why the Egyptian had been eliminated. But the only one who could confirm such a theory was Reed himself.

Carefully replacing the papers, Jed swore that he would get the consular agent to do just that, no matter what means had to be employed. He'd go to the man's residence at once when Reed wouldn't be expecting him. And by the time he was done, Reed would have given him back his good name, a name Jed could share with Vicky.

* * *

“She's beginning to come around.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, see how her eyelashes are fluttering?”

The voices were muted, as though they originated a great distance away. Yet through the haze that clouded her vision, Victoria could make out misty shapes close at hand, figures that she sensed were comforting and familiar.

But Victoria was in no hurry to leave the darkness behind and rush into the light. Instinct more than memory cautioned that there, in the brightness, unpleasant problems awaited. And so she was content to float amid gray brume and benumbed sensation, trying to shut out the voices that gently but insistently beckoned her forth. Finally she could ignore their urgings no longer.

“Oh, my dearest girl,” she heard her mother cooing, her voice a soft ripple of sound that put Victoria in mind of her childhood.

“There, there, Grace,” her father was soothing, “I told you Victoria would be fine, didn't I? We've raised ourselves quite a strong, courageous young woman.”

Blinking rapidly, Victoria shifted her glance from one parent to the other. She had distinctly heard their words, yet she felt neither the least bit courageous nor strong, especially in these strange surroundings. Instead an inexplicable sorrow gnawed at her—that and pain. Tears began to gather in the corners of her eyes without her knowing exactly why. And then she remembered.

“Jed, oh Jed,” she uttered miserably.

“Here, my darling, have some of the laudanum Lady Trenton's physician left for you,” Grace instructed, bringing a spoonful of bitter-tasting medicine to her daughter's lips.

“For heaven's sakes, Grace!” Cameron Shaw snapped, encircling his wife's wrist and staying her hand. “You were beside yourself when the girl didn't come around, and now she's waking, you're trying to put her out again. It makes no sense to me!”

“But you heard her,” Grace objected protectively, close to tears herself. “She's crying over that scandalous American. Let her drift back to sleep until she's ready to face the truth.”

“The truth? Jed's being called a murderer is a lie, I know it is!” Victoria protested, trying to rise until her father's gentle hands guided her head back to her pillow. “He's innocent, no matter what Hayden has to say.”

“That remains to be seen,” her father maintained, his firm voice tinged with sympathy.

“I don't care what Hayden thinks, or you, or anyone else for that matter. The Jed Kincaid I know is an honorable man,” Victoria insisted defiantly, nevertheless reaching for the dainty handkerchief her mother held out for her. “You don't know him as I do. Jed would never become involved with such dirty business.”

“Then why, may I ask, did he run off?” inquired Lady Trenton, returning to the boudoir and overhearing the girl's remark. “I always thought there was danger lurking in that American's eyes despite the charm he exuded.”

“Well, you were mistaken about Jed Kincaid,” Victoria said quietly.

Weak and weary though she was, Victoria couldn't help coming to Jed's defense any more than she could help worrying about him. Why was he being charged with such heinous crimes? Had he been hurt when he escaped? Where was he now, and was he safe? Questions flowed through Victoria's mind like helpless petals caught in the strong current of the Nile. But her agonizing queries did nothing more than turn her complexion a paler shade and dull the sheen of her normally bright eyes.

“There, there, my dear. The shock has been too much for you. But what you're reacting to, surely, is having learned that you suffered the company of such a horrible man on your northward journey from Khartoum. You can only be glad that he left you in peace. He did, didn't he?” Lady Trenton asked delicately, trying to uncover the source of Victoria's excessive distress.

“Of course he did!” Grace Shaw replied indignantly before Victoria could answer. Yet emphatic as the matron's reply was, she, too, had her doubts. Hadn't she seen with her own eyes the way Kincaid had looked at her daughter?

But Victoria could not bother to defend her honor, even to the biggest gossip in all of Cairo. It was Jed who was important. Her mind searched frantically for a way to help the American who had risked his life so many times to save hers, the maverick who had been willing to join a herd in order to be near her, the man who had taught her what it meant to be a woman. There had to be something she could do to lend assistance to his plight—there had to be! Suddenly a thought struck her.

“Where's Hayden?” she asked with detached calm. He could help. He was heading Cookson's damned investigation, wasn't he? Since he was the one who started this mess, he was the one who could stop it.

“Why—why—he's gone along home, child. After all, it is very late,” Mrs. Shaw informed her in a faltering voice.

“He wasn't concerned about me? He simply left?”

“You know how men are in an emergency,” Lady Trenton said, following Grace's lead. “They're no good at all. Hayden hadn't the vaguest notion of what to do for you, so he went home.”

“With strict instructions that we were to inform him of your health in the morning,” Grace interjected lamely, her quiet words barely audible over her husband's snort of contempt.

“Poor Hayden couldn't leave fast enough once I had you brought to this room,” Lady Trenton added, rudely interrupting Victoria's memories of how well Jed Kincaid handled any crisis that arose. “But then I would guess the dear man's haste to be gone was caused by the guilt he felt for upsetting you. He obviously hadn't expected you'd find the news of Kincaid's arrest and escape so unnerving. Sometimes men have no idea of just how delicate we women are,” the socialite concluded with a sniff.

“Yes, but in his defense, I should point out that he was quite contrite, indeed,” Mrs. Shaw said by way of comfort. She didn't bother to inform her daughter that Hayden's remorse had manifested itself only in the face of Cameron's rage.

“I'm sure he was,” Victoria said evenly, not daring to give the slightest indication of how she had come to regard Hayden Reed. Should her parents suspect the emotions she really harbored, the plan that was beginning to form would never be a viable one.

“But Hayden's behavior is not something for you to worry about,” Cameron stated authoritatively, tired of the way his wife and her friend were going on. “What you need is your sleep.”

“Lady Trenton insists we remain here until morning when her physician will call again to see you,” Grace explained, giving her daughter's hand a small pat. “Your father has agreed.”

“That might be for the best,” Victoria admitted, glad things were working in her favor. She had an idea of what the dastardly civil servant would want from her in exchange for his cooperation to clear the name of the man she loved more than life itself. Distasteful as she found the prospect, Victoria knew she would do whatever was necessary to save the man who owned her heart. Her idea could only be successful, however, if she spent the night in the city and not on her parents' estate, where she had one of the servants acting as her bodyguard anytime she stepped out of doors.

“Right now I find myself exceedingly sleepy. I think I'll just lie back and close my eyes,” she said pitifully, and gave a little moan that would make certain her father did not change his mind about his family staying the night with Lady Trenton.

“A wise decision,” the noblewoman pronounced. “Perhaps a bit of the laudanum?”

“I'm so fatigued, I won't need it,” Victoria replied. A dose of the potent drug now would see her intentions come to naught.

“But a weary body does not protect against an overactive mind,” Grace chastised gently. “Consider a small spoonful.”

“There will be none at all,” Cameron announced firmly, escorting the two older women toward the door before they could have their way. “What Victoria needs is quiet, not laudanum. I suggest we remove ourselves and give her just that.” Ushering Grace and Lady Trenton through the doorway, Victoria's father stood at the threshold and turned to address his offspring.

“If you should require us, your mother and I shall be in the rooms directly next door, my dear. As for Kincaid, don't trouble your pretty head about him. If he's the man I think he is, things will sort themselves out. And if he's not, he certainly isn't worth your upset.” Then he was gone, shutting the door behind him.

Victoria lay in the soft darkness, the shadows of the room punctuated by the weak glow of a single oil lamp placed discreetly in a far corner. Listening intently to the low murmur of voices in the hallway outside, she finally heard the clicks of doors closing along the corridor, the signal she had been waiting for that everyone had retired for the evening.

Sitting up, Victoria realized she would have to be patient until the others fell asleep and she could set out to do what she intended. She settled herself on the edge of the bed, her feet dangling inches from the floor. All at once, with no warning, a tear materialized and began to wend its way down her cheek. Exasperated by its appearance, she brushed it away. This was no time to be giving into emotions, the girl chided herself. She needed to be every bit as strong as her father evidently thought she was. Otherwise she would have little hope of carrying out her plan.

She refused to bemoan her inevitable separation from the man she loved. She would have the rest of her life to do that after she concluded her business with Hayden. Instead, Victoria determined to use this last hour before her fate was irrevocably sealed to dwell on the happiness she had discovered in Jed's arms.

She didn't have to close her eyes to see his handsome visage before her, the exquisitely sculpted lines and planes of his stubborn chin and clean jaw, his fine nose and broad forehead topped by thick, coffee brown hair. But his heavily fringed green eyes were what had held her prisoner from the very first. She had beheld them glinting with devilment, flashing in anger, and growing dark with passion. And of late, she had seen in their depths the unshuttered reflection of love.

Giving herself over to precious recollections, she began to relive the numerous demonstrations of his raw, masculine power, his fierce protectiveness toward her, and his touching tenderness.

And, for all he had given her, Victoria would grant Jed something in return. She would give him his liberty if not his life. The sacrifice she chose to make in order to do so was a trifling thing compared with the joy she would keep hidden in her heart in years to come, a joy founded in the knowledge that somewhere Jed Kincaid lived a free man.

Commanded by her desperation to go to Hayden, Victoria rose. With icy tranquillity, her slender fingers slowly but purposefully untied the ribbons of Lady Trenton's bed jacket. Slipping out of that and a voluminous nightgown, she found her own garments and dressed, struggling quietly to fasten the back of her gown as best she could. After donning her stockings and shoes, Victoria grabbed a light cotton throw from an overstuffed striped chair, and folded it to resemble a shawl. Draping it over her hair and around her shoulders, she silently opened the wooden door of the ground-floor bedroom leading out to Lady Trenton's renowned garden.