Lynx to the Pharaoh Page 9

  Sethmet bowed, his lips quivering as he battled the need to laugh out loud. “Certainly, my lord.”

  Sethmet strode forward and the servants parted, fanning out in a semicircle around him. “Why have you stopped preparing for the journey to the oasis?”

  The men fidgeted and stared at their sandaled feet.

  It was clear none of them were willing to speak first so Sethmet scanned the faces and picked. “Bahar?”

  Footsteps, the swish of stiff fabric and the scent of lilacs told him Charlotte approached. Despite his worries about taking the Englishmen so near the pharaoh’s tomb, Sethmet was looking forward to spending more time with her.

  “What’s going on?” Charlotte’s soft voice sent a frisson of awareness through Sethmet.

  He cleared his throat. “That’s what I’m trying to find out. Bahar?”

  “Ghost cat,” the man whispered, glancing over his shoulder as if he expected the mythical beast to pounce on him.

  “A cat?” Charlotte stepped close enough that Sethmet could feel the heat from her body. “What did it look like?”

  Bahar paled. “Bad omen, missy. Not see cat. Paw prints all around camp.” A shiver swept through his thin frame. “Bad, bad omen.”

  The muttering started again.

  “What’s the man talking about?” Justin demanded.

  “He’s right about paw prints,” William muttered. “They’re all around my tent—as big as my hand. They look like cat prints to me, the same ones we’ve seen before.”

  “There are big cats around here,” Sethmet said, smiling at Charlotte. “And of course, the cat is a sacred animal in Egypt. There are many temples dedicated to the cat.”

  “I don’t care about bloody legends,” William snapped. “I want to get moving.”

  The man’s sweaty face and red cheeks showed clear strain. It wouldn’t take much more to push him over the edge. Sethmet offered a placating smile. “And you will,” he promised. “Leave it to me.”

  It took all of Sethmet’s persuasion to get the workers to carry out their normal duties let alone prepare for the expedition.

  “The ghost cat seeks prey,” one muttered, his arms flapping so much he reminded Sethmet of a stork trying to fly. The wind aided the vision in his mind’s eye when the man’s cotton galabiyya snapped in the persistent breeze. Sethmet lifted his head. A storm was coming—he smelled it in the wind. The pharaoh was agitated and showing it with the powers he had at his command.

  Never fear, my pharaoh, Sethmet pledged silently. I will keep you safe—no matter what the cost. He must think of his family first and keep them safe from repercussions if things went wrong during the next two nights and the Englishmen found the tomb.

  It was a dangerous game he played since a cornered man was a desperate foe.

  William paced, increasingly edgy. Justin, on the other hand, remained the arrogant Englishman, ordering the workers around, sending them on countless trips to his tent for items he simply couldn’t do without.

  Finally, they were ready. The workers still squawked like agitated birds.

  “The ghost cat will come. We will die in our sleep,” one intoned.

  Sethmet resorted to guile. He gestured them together to listen. “It is broad daylight,” he said. “If the cat follows we will see for we travel across the flat where there are no dunes.”

  They digested the information.

  “This is true.”

  “The master is right. We will be safer if we leave the oasis.”

  Several of them nodded agreement.

  “Good,” Sethmet said. “I will help the Englishmen mount the camels.” A smile hovered on his lips as he turned away. He wondered what they’d think if they knew the ghost cat traveled with the camel train and would stalk the campsite tonight.

  * * * * *

  Charlotte thought the servants seemed happier as they set up camp for the night.

  The man stirring a stew over the fire hummed while another squatted by the fire and tapped on a goatskin drum. However, all was not well with William and Justin, who spoke in low undertones.

  “Is there a problem?” she asked, finally tired of them ignoring her. It wasn’t as if she could talk to Sethmet, despite preferring his company. The power her stepbrother had over her future frightened Charlotte. He’d already gambled away her money.

  Charlotte suspected there might be worse in store since they kept glancing at her between spates of muttered conversation. “What is wrong?” she repeated, shifting uncomfortably. Her entire body ached tonight. “Do I have a smut on my nose?”

  “Of course not, my dear.” Justin stepped over to her and claimed possession of her hand. He pressed a lingering kiss to her wrist, his eyes glowing with lustful heat. “We were merely discussing business. Nothing to worry your pretty head about.”

  If she’d worried earlier she might have prevented William from spending her inheritance. Charlotte reclaimed her hand and resisted the urge to wipe it on her gown.

  “It’s getting chilly,” she said. Outside the U of white rock formations protecting the campsite, the wind whistled, sending fine white sand swirling into the air. Charlotte shivered. The white desert was a lonely, ghostly place. “I think I’ll get my shawl.”

  A shout rang out to announce dinner was ready. Justin and William ceased their secretive talks and joined her near the fire to dine on bowls of meat and bean stew and hot bread still warm from the fire. Between bites, Justin stared at her, bringing intense discomfort.

  Sethmet and the servants dined separately, the chatter and laughter coming from their group making her aware of her isolation.

  Charlotte exhaled with relief when the meal finished. William and Justin continued to speak quietly between themselves. Charlotte wasn’t sure she wanted to know what they were discussing, but she still picked up several words. Treasure and marriage among them. She stood, deciding she’d had enough. “Good night.”

  William and Justin broke off their conversation. Justin stood and Charlotte moved quickly so the makeshift table sat between them.

  “Good night, my dear.”

  Charlotte nodded and hurried off. The man made her feel distinctly uncomfortable because of the way he eyed her as if she were a tasty slice of roast beef. She quickened her pace before Justin decided to escort her to her tent. She peered through the gloom, trying to see if Sethmet waited for her. To her acute disappointment, he was busy instructing the servants. She heard his low, husky tones and sighing, lifted her tent flap and stepped inside. Probably for the best, she thought. The aches in her body from the camel ride seemed bone-deep. It was either that or the dry climate was disagreeing with her and she had caught the ague. Charlotte frowned in annoyance, knowing she didn’t have time to get sick. It would leave her vulnerable and that was a situation she disliked heartily.

  Charlotte undressed slowly, the persistent aching in her bones making her wince when she raised her arms. She felt her forehead in the way her governess used to when Charlotte was pretending she was sick. A soft chuckle escaped at the memory. Fishing and exploring the woods with the neighboring children had seemed much more fun than practicing her French and needlework. Nothing wrong with her temperature, she decided.

  Perhaps she would feel better in the morning. Charlotte drew her nightgown over her head. A shaft of pain shot the length of her body, and a moan squeezed past her lips.

  Charlotte lay on the pallet, but the noises from the campsite seemed louder than usual. She could hear the low murmur of William and Justin talking together, probably in another huddle. Dishes clacked together while the servants cleared the remains of dinner away and the persistent bang-bang of the drum reverberated inside her head. A man spoke in their native tongue, the voice familiar and reassuring. Sethmet, she thought, her heart aching in time with the throb shaking her body. Suddenly, her breasts and nipples felt tender and swollen, the weight of her nightgown too much for her to bear. She shifted fitfully, trying to relieve the ache, but it intensified
, transforming into excitement. Charlotte twisted and turned until her nightgown worked up, baring her legs to the air. Charlotte’s heart pounded, her mouth dry and her body on fire. Where was Sethmet when she needed him? She moved yet again and an arrow of heat shot to her core. Unbidden, her hand glided across her belly then lower to tangle in her pubic hair. She swallowed, desire overwhelming her. Tempting.

  Her hand crept lower still, sliding across slick feminine folds. A jolt of pure, heady sensation arced through her body. The gentle rotation of a finger drew a moan from her tight throat.

  Molten fire licked through her veins, yet she felt empty and alone.

  She wanted Sethmet.

  Her finger stroked, massaged, building the sensation until her pulse raced and urgent hunger jerked her hips.

  Sethmet, where are you?

  Suddenly, unsteady footsteps outside her tent stilled her hand. Charlotte bolted upright on the pallet. The footsteps halted outside her tent and a light shone, casting shadows against the canvas. Her stomach clenched tight. Sethmet? Harsh breathing and a whiff of tobacco and snuff answered her silent question. Not Sethmet. He never brought a lamp. A flicker of apprehension swept through Charlotte when the ties that kept the flap closed were tugged open. The flap lifted and even in the darkness, Charlotte could identify the man.

  Chapter Eight

  “What are you doing in here? Wait!” Charlotte sprang off her pallet and held a hand in front of her body. “Don’t come any closer. Leave now and we’ll forget this ever happened.”

  Justin held his lamp up so he could see Charlotte more clearly. “But my dear, that’s no way to greet your future husband.” He stalked closer. Setting the lamp aside, he grabbed her, planting a punishing kiss on her lips. “I have William’s permission to take this step.” Triumph shone in his eyes as he kissed her again and groped one breast with bruising force.

  Alarm yielded swiftly to anger. Charlotte softened her body, melting against his chest. “Justin,” she cooed, batting her lashes at him. She would deal with her stepbrother later.

  The man puffed up like a proud peacock. “I knew you’d see sense,” he drawled. “I need an heir straightaway. No sense wasting time.”

  “Oh Justin.” Charlotte sighed and simpered up at him. Pompous toad.

  Justin let her go and stepped back, his gaze traveling the length of her body. “You are very beautiful, my dear. Of course, I know you were married for some time. It’s possible you may not be able to bear children. I must have an heir.”

  Charlotte’s anger almost choked her. She took a slow, deep breath, her eyes narrowing. “So, you would like to spend time with me before we return to England.” William deserved a slow punishment. Not only had he frittered about her money, he’d practically sold her to Justin without a care for her feelings on the matter. Yes, she would think of a fitting punishment for her stepbrother, something dire to make him suffer.

  Justin advanced on her again, a hot look in his blue eyes. “I’m glad we understand each other, my dear.”

  Charlotte forced a wide smile. Come a little closer, Lord Banning. She slid her hands down her hips, holding the fabric of her nightgown against her body so her shape showed through.

  “I’m so glad you’re being sensible about this.” Justin reached for her, and Charlotte raised her head. She heard the faint sound of footsteps outside the tent, but then the moment she’d hoped for happened. His eyes slid shut and she struck, jerking her knee upward into his groin with all the force she could muster. He dropped to the ground like a felled tree, giving a pained groan that came from deep in his chest. Charlotte stared down at him with disgust and resisted the urge to kick him while he was down. If her bones hadn’t ached so badly she just might have followed through on the impulse.

  A growl sounded just outside the tent.

  “Kitty?” Pleasure suffused Charlotte. She rushed toward the flap and lifted it to see the snarling face of the caracal, its ears twitching in agitation. The tense set left her shoulders because instinctively she knew she was safe from Lord Banning now. The caracal turned and loped off then stopped to glance back as if he waited for something—something he wanted her to do.

  Charlotte glanced over her shoulder and without another thought limped from the tent, determined to find somewhere else to sleep tonight. Kitty would help her find somewhere safe. She hurried to catch up to the cat, every muscle throbbing, each of her bones sore and tender.

  The cat paused as if to make sure she followed. It picked up its speed, breaking into a trot, leaving the camp behind. Charlotte tried to follow. She stumbled, a wave of nausea sweeping through her belly. Her heart thundered. She had to go with the cat. She had to follow. For some reason, it seemed imperative she kept the caracal in sight.

  Charlotte struggled to her feet despite the pain spearing through her. A whimper sounded, soft and forlorn in the darkness. The agony suffused her from the top of her head to her bare feet. She scrunched her toes into the sand, and her hands clenched while she rode out the pain. Unexpectedly, the sensation changed. A wave of pure, heartrending pleasure poured over her in waves. She balanced on a knife edge, sometimes pleasure and sometimes pain. Her skin glowed hot and sensitive as though it might pop and it felt as though her bones stretched on a rack. Her cotton nightgown was an unbearable weight on her sensitive skin. With shaky hands, she drew it off and let the breeze cool her heated body. Another sudden wave of pain sent Charlotte to her knees.

  The sand beneath her hands and feet sent a whimsical notion through her confused head.

  Sounds bombarded her—a man snoring, the crackle of the campfire, the sleepy yawn of the man who tended the camels and the soft snarl of the cat. The urge to run was a siren song—it lured her much like the cat drew her awe.

  A growl attracted her attention. The caracal stood in front of her with its ears twitching and tail swishing. He padded closer and rubbed his head against her shoulder.

  His rough tongue licked across her cheek before he padded away then turned back to wait.

  Charlotte desperately wanted to follow. She crawled, tensing, expecting pain, but it didn’t come. Confused, she glanced down to see she’d changed into a cat much like Kitty.

  A dream, she thought hazily.

  Charlotte moved smoothly after Kitty and broke into a run, slamming into his muscled shoulder. He let out a surprised grunt, gave her an affectionate nudge and swatted her with his paw.

  Growling, she raced off, stopping abruptly to see if he followed. He did. Kitty loped easily at her side, keeping pace as she ran and ran and ran. The freedom was like a heady tonic. The wind ruffled her fur as she ran while her sharp eyes picked up small creatures that scuttled away at their approach. Gradually, her pace slowed, her sides rising and falling with exhaustion. Kitty kept pace the whole time and slowed when she did. He licked her muzzle and her face, rubbing against her until she quivered. His eyes glowed as he gently shunted her in another direction.

  Different sounds—human noises—made her hesitate even though she couldn’t see the camp because of a rocky outcrop. The scent reached her at the same time—men snoring, their sweaty bodies tossing and turning as they slept. Stealthy footsteps wandered through the camp. Without warning, Kitty slammed into her shoulder, forcing her to stop.

  Startled, she froze. Kitty prowled in front of her. A mist shimmered around the cat and before her stunned eyes, he transformed. Seconds later, Sethmet stood before her, proudly naked.

  “Change, Charlotte,” he murmured, his voice low and seductive. “Concentrate. Picture legs and arms in your mind and the change will happen.”

  Charlotte fixed on his words and concentrated as Sethmet instructed. Pain tinged with pleasure rippled across her skin. She shuddered inwardly as her body transformed back to human form. Sethmet caught her close when she stumbled. Chest pressed to breast, and Sethmet stroked her back, murmuring in a low, soothing tone.

  “I’m sure you have questions,” he said.

  Charlotte lifted h
er head to study him closely. “You’re Kitty. That wasn’t a dream.”

  Sethmet scowled. “I am not a kitty. Come. I’ll grab my clothes, and we’ll talk in your tent.”

  Her lips twitched in amusement at his clear pique. “What about my nightgown? And what if Justin is still in my tent?” Justin and William would both be furious with her. Her good mood dispersed a fraction despite her residual fury with them.

  “I’ll kill him,” Sethmet snarled. “You are mine.”

  Charlotte opened her mouth to hotly dispute his ownership then snapped it closed again. Perhaps there was something in his claim. And he was right—she had questions.

  Lots of them.

  She had changed into a cat. A caracal. She’d run free just as she’d dreamed during the last few weeks. Her mind struggled with both excitement and horror while she followed, trusting him implicitly.

  “I might exact my revenge anyway,” he muttered, turning to her and halting their walk to the tent. His eyes glowed hotly as his gaze wandered across her bare breasts. “He touched you.” Raw, savage anger burned in him, and she had no doubt Justin was in extreme danger.

  Charlotte placed a placating hand on Sethmet’s breastbone. “I dealt with him myself. He won’t forget it in a hurry, although I have no doubt both he and William will be angry. What just happened? I turned into a cat like Kitty.”

  Sethmet glared. “Don’t call me that.”

  Charlotte ran her hand across his shoulder and down his biceps. She stood on tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his lips. Instantly, Charlotte forgot every one of her questions. Sethmet’s arms came around her and he took over the kiss, ravaging her mouth. Tongues dueled, mouths mated and his cock swelled against her stomach.

  “My mate,” Sethmet said, cupping her bottom and lifting Charlotte so her legs parted and curled around his waist. His hands glided in a long and luxurious stroke down her back while he nuzzled at the smooth skin of her throat. Sethmet led Charlotte into a world where sensation ruled, and he was everything to her.

  His hand probed slick feminine folds, strumming her swollen clit, driving her higher. Deeper. One finger slipped inside and thrust slowly. Charlotte trembled as he feasted on her mouth and pumped his finger in and out. A violent spasm of pleasure streaked the length of her body, making her gasp.