Under A Desert Moon. Laura Martin
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as she’d been brought up to do.
‘I followed you here,’ Seb said bluntly.
He tried to keep a straight face as Emma’s expression turned to one of horror.
‘You followed me?’ she asked.
‘Yes, trailed you from the moment we left the dock.’
She frowned warily. ‘So you saw where I went this afternoon?’
He nodded vaguely.
‘You won’t tell the Fitzgeralds I visited the museum without them?’
‘Wouldn’t dream of it. Your secret’s safe with me.’
She looked at him appraisingly for a few seconds then grunted, as if satisfied.
‘You didn’t visit the museum, did you?’ he asked slowly.
‘And you didn’t follow me, did you?’
Seb grinned again. It wasn’t often he came up against anyone who gave as good as they got.
‘I didn’t follow you,’ he admitted in a low whisper. He felt her shiver as he leaned in closer and his breath tickled her ear. ‘I didn’t have to. It’s common knowledge the Fitzgeralds dine at Harcourt’s every Thursday. I knew exactly where to find you.’
She looked at him, clearly wondering whether to believe this version of events.
‘And I suppose you came specially to see me?’
‘Would you believe me if I said I couldn’t get you out of my mind?’ Seb asked.
Emma laughed.
‘You dash all the romance from a fellow,’ he grumbled, pretending to be dejected.
The truth was he had come to Harcourt’s to see her again. Seb had spent the entire afternoon feeling out of control, and if there was one thing he hated it was not being in control. Every time he sat down to translate a document or tally his accounts he would see Emma’s face, the expression of awe as she was enthralled by his description of the Temple of Horus. He kept remembering the way she had felt in his arms and kept imagining the taste of her lips. He regretted not kissing her, not brushing his lips against hers just the once so he could relive the experience at his leisure.
He glanced down at those lips now. They were pursed slightly, as if she were mildly displeased. Emma was frowning, but the twinkle in her eye told Seb that she was only pretending to disapprove.
He spun her in time to the music, marvelling at how easily she kept up. She intrigued him, this petite blonde beauty. He couldn’t understand how she’d ended up in Egypt all on her own. She was pretty, accomplished at dancing, quick-witted. She should have had men clamouring for her hand in marriage. But instead here she was, past the age when most young women had settled down, in a foreign country thousands of miles away from home.
‘I came tonight because I had to know the answer to a question that’s been plaguing me all afternoon,’ Seb said.
Emma cocked her head to one side and waited for him to continue.
‘Why have you come to Egypt?’
The shutters came down again and Emma looked at him warily. It was Seb’s turn to smile encouragingly. He held his breath, not knowing why her answer mattered so much to him.
‘My father,’ she said. ‘He passed away recently. He was an eminent Egyptologist. When I was young he would tell me the most wonderful stories about Egypt. And now...’ She trailed off.
Seb understood. She was trying to relive those memories, get closer to her father.
‘Most young women wouldn’t be brave enough to come to a foreign country on their own.’
She shrugged. ‘My father is dead, I don’t have any close relatives and I’m unlikely ever to get married. The only way I could make the trip was alone.’
Seb pulled her in closer. Unlikely ever to get married? He wondered why. There was nothing wrong with Emma that he could see. In fact he knew men who would give half their fortunes to marry a pretty and accomplished woman. She was becoming more and more intriguing.
Silently he reminded himself not to pry. He knew the value of privacy. When he’d first arrived in Cairo all those years ago, society had been almost obsessed with his reasons for leaving England. It was common knowledge that he and his father had fallen out, but over the years Seb had managed to keep the rest of the details a secret. If Emma wanted to keep her reasons for visiting Egypt close to her chest, then he wouldn’t be the one to pry them from her.
The music stopped and for a few seconds they stood completely still, locked in each other’s arms. Seb could feel the rise and fall of Emma’s chest against him and he knew she wasn’t breathless from the dance. Her lips were a rosy pink and her eyes sparkled in the light. For a moment Seb wanted to sweep her into his arms and carry her off into the night, exploring her body and getting into the closed-off crannies of her mind.
Then reluctantly Emma pulled away and the spell was broken.
‘Thank you for a lovely dance, Mr Oakfield,’ she said.
Seb forced himself to smile nonchalantly, not wanting her to see how much she had affected him.
‘Would you care for a breath of fresh air?’ Seb asked, knowing he was playing with fire.
She regarded him silently for a few seconds, then nodded.
He escorted her outside onto the large terrace. They weren’t alone, which Seb knew he should be grateful for. Emma incited something inside him that he knew he had to be careful of. The last thing he needed was to be caught in a compromising situation with the very proper Miss Knight.
They made their way over to the stone balustrade and Seb watched as Emma rested her elbows on the cool surface and gazed out into the darkness. His eyes wandered over the delicate curve of her jaw up to her rosy pink lips and he felt the first stirrings of desire. His instinct was to pull her into his arms and kiss her, claim her as his own. He almost laughed at the intensity of his feelings.
He dipped his fingers into his pocket and ran the tips over the rugged surface of the Shabti he’d shown to Emma earlier. For a moment he wondered if bringing it here tonight had been a stupid idea.
‘I have a present for you,’ he said, watching as her expression turned to one of intrigue.
Slowly he withdrew the Shabti from his pocket and handed it over.
Emma took the carved stone in her hand and turned it over a couple of times.
‘I couldn’t possibly accept this,’ she said, but her eyes gave away her longing for the artefact.
‘I want you to have it.’
‘But you barely know me.’
It was true, but earlier in the day as they’d sat side by side in the felucca, Seb had seen a passion in Emma’s eyes that he recognised from his own. Owning this Shabti would mean so much to her, and for some reason Seb found himself wanting to make her happy.
‘I can’t accept this,’ Emma repeated, holding out the artefact.
Seb didn’t move a muscle, just looked deep into her eyes and smiled.
‘It would make me happy if you would accept this as a welcoming gift from the country I love so much.’
Emma drew back her hand and once again studied the Shabti. Eventually she gave a slight nod.
‘I will treasure it always.’
Seb knew she spoke the truth.
‘Why are you in Egypt, Mr Oakfield?’ Emma asked suddenly, turning to face him.
Seb grinned, trying to hide the fact that he’d been staring at her lips and fantasising about pulling her up against him.
He