The Sheikh's Tempted Prisoner Read online

  He guided her into the palace, which was even more beautiful inside than out. It boasted mosaic tiles and gold-painted, beautiful geometric patterns across the floor as well as lush inner courtyards bursting with greenery and flowers from behind cages of intricate screens. The air was full of music and the scent of spice and orange blossom. Vanessa was enchanted, almost as enraptured by the setting as by Abraham’s gripping tale of how he’d recovered the map from a lost city in the Congo.

  “It was among a half-dozen texts we rescued from an ancient library. The original inhabitants were wiped out in colonial wars, and most of their culture and writings were destroyed. But this library had been sealed against time and the jungle, air tight to preserve the texts within! And ferociously protected.

  “The earth was scattered with bones, though we couldn’t be sure if they were the bodies of warriors who had died defending the place, the men they’d killed, or the remains of ill-fated grave robbers caught in the fiendish traps they had laid. I nearly had a heart attack when we first opened the sealed chamber. We had to filter the air to keep the documents from crumbling on contact with the humid jungle atmosphere! And there, among the scrolls and tablets, was the map, waiting for me like a sign from the heavens!”

  She suspected he was elaborating for her benefit, and some of it sounded suspiciously like the plot of a movie, but Vanessa indulged him regardless, just happy to see him doing so well.

  Vanessa had recovered from the sharp blow of their failure in Nubia more determined than ever, but it had worn her mentor down immensely. Then he’d vanished on this long sabbatical, and she’d been half certain it was the end for him. To see him so alive and engaged now was more than reassuring. And it made her feel all the more guilty that she wasn’t sharing her discovery with him.

  She promised herself that she would make it up to him after everything was said and done.

  “So, what brings you to Ksatta-Galan so suddenly?” Abraham asked as they wandered the crowded ballroom, champagne in hand. “If I’d known you were coming, I might have at least met you at the airport.”

  “I didn’t want to trouble you,” Vanessa replied, trying not to look as flustered as she felt by the question. “It’s just a few last-minute findings I needed to verify personally. I didn’t even officially declare the time off. I just want to be certain I’ve actually found something worth bothering with before I make a big fuss about it, you know?”

  “Ah, yes, I understand,” Abraham agreed with a sage nod. “After what happened last time, I can hardly blame you. We were so certain…”

  “I was so certain,” Vanessa said, gripping the edge of her cape, guilt still there even after three years. “I convinced you to gamble everything on it. If it weren’t for me—”

  “Nonsense, girl,” Abraham said firmly. “You are my student, and the decision to go was mine. As was the decision to personally fund the expedition. Plus, we did learn one thing.”

  “What’s that?” Vanessa asked.

  “We know one more place the tomb definitely is not,” Abraham said with a chuckle.

  Vanessa laughed as well, but the guilt remained. She had been so sure it was there…

  “Ah, look there!” Abraham said suddenly.

  Vanessa followed his gaze to the top of the grand staircase, where a young man was descending. He looked to be about Vanessa’s age and was breathtakingly handsome. In a stylish, burnt orange thawb, its high collar unbuttoned against his strong, angular jaw, he looked at once more simply and yet more richly dressed than anyone else in the room.

  The watch almost hidden beneath the sleeve of his robe was the only glitter he wore—nothing in comparison to the woman on his arm who was dripping in so many diamonds that Vanessa was certain she must leave a trail of them behind her wherever she stepped.

  And yet, Vanessa couldn’t take her eyes off of him.

  “Who is that?” she asked Abraham.

  “That would be our host,” the professor explained. “Sheikh Ramin Al-Zand, the son of the ruling Sheikh of Ksatta-Galan. This is one of his palaces, and he’s transforming it into the nation’s largest history museum. This evening’s celebration is in honor of that.”

  “And the woman with him?”

  “I couldn’t say,” Abraham said with a shrug. “They change as often as the weather. Sheikh Ramin is somewhat known as a heartbreaker.”

  Vanessa felt a momentary sting of disappointment which she quickly dismissed. She was here to work, not throw herself at playboy princes who could clearly do much better.

  “But don’t tell him I said that,” Abraham went on. “I’ve been working with him rather extensively lately. The Sheikh is an avid student of history. There hasn’t been an archeological development in this area he wasn’t involved in somehow.”

  “Well, that’s just not fair,” Vanessa said, still watching as Ramin descended the stairs to speak with his guests. “Gorgeous, a prince, and a historian as well? Next, you’ll be telling me he has two—”

  “Ah, one moment,” Abraham cut her off as he spotted someone through the crowd. “There’s someone I absolutely must speak to. Wait here; I’ll be back in just a moment.”

  He hurried away before she could respond, leaving her stranded in the middle of the crowded ballroom, feeling increasingly awkward as each moment passed. She couldn’t even follow him, having lost him almost at once amid the glittering gowns of all the guests.

  But as the minutes ticked by and the professor didn’t return, Vanessa became increasingly sure she would have to try. She took a deep breath, finished her champagne in a single swallow, and waded into the crowd in search of her escort.

  She hadn’t gone far at all before she bumped into someone and stumbled back, apologizing. Her apology died in her throat as she recognized the smug face looking down at her.

  “Peterson,” she said, somewhere between shock and dismay. “What are you doing here?”

  “I could ask you the same thing,” he answered, raising an eyebrow. “Isn’t an affair like this a bit out of your price range?”

  “Judging by her dress,” said the woman standing next to Peterson, who was tall and dark haired and had a distinctly French accent, “that’s not the only thing that’s beyond her price range.”

  “I can manage my own price range, thank you,” Vanessa retorted, a little more aggressively than she’d meant to, caught off-guard by the sudden appearance of her rival. “Now, if you wouldn’t mind answering the question—”

  “Why, I already told you,” Peterson said with a roll of his eyes. “The expedition to find Cush, son of Ham. I did invite you along, you recall?”

  “I had no idea you were leaving so soon.”

  “Nor I you,” Peterson said with a chuckle. “You’re not really planning to walk into the desert with a trowel, are you?”

  “I’m just here to visit Professor Van Rees,” Vanessa lied. “I’m changing direction on my thesis and I needed his help.”

  “My, what perfect timing,” Peterson said. “Once I have the support of Sheikh Ramin Al-Zand, we plan to embark! You could come with us! Except…oh, well, we did already secure your replacement. May I introduce Renée Dubois?”

  He gestured to the woman beside him, and Vanessa felt a cold anger sitting like a stone in her gut.

  “She’s the finest historical linguist in Europe,” Peterson said. “She’s even familiar with Meroitic.”

  “As familiar as one needs to be with such a crude language,” Dubois said with a shrug. “There’s a reason there are so few bilingual documents in Meroitic. It’s an unspeakably plain little tongue.”

  Vanessa’s anger flared up into a hot rage, wanting to defend the beautiful ancient tongue she’d devoted so much of her life to, but she forced it down.

  “I’ve heard of your work,” Vanessa said, tight-lipped. “I have a great deal of respect for you. Which makes it all the more disappointing to see you working with someone who has so little respect for the science and history of what we d
o.”

  “Ah, good old Vanessa.” Peterson laughed. “You always were one to take petty jabs rather than let your work speak for itself. Whatever your opinions about my methods, I’m here, and my success needs no disclaimer.”

  “Well, I’m here too,” Vanessa pointed out. “And I didn’t need Daddy’s credit card to manage it.”

  Peterson drew himself up ire, but Dubois stepped between them, ‘accidentally’ dumping her champagne on Vanessa’s gown in the process. Vanessa jumped back, trying to save it, but too late. She watched the alcohol soak into the silk with a grimace.

  “Oh well,” Dubois smirked. “It’s not much of a loss.”

  With a cat’s self-satisfied smile, she led Peterson away while Vanessa tried to ignore the stares of the other guests who’d seen the confrontation. She hurried away through the crowd, snatching a handful of napkins off the catering table as she slipped out onto an empty balcony.

  Chapter Four

  The cool night wind was refreshing on her hot, flustered face as she stood near the stone railing, all but hiding behind a pot of trailing jasmine while she blotted uselessly at the wet dark streak on her dress. She sniffled, struggling to avoid tears that would only further ruin her makeup. She didn’t need to make things any worse.

  Vanessa gave up trying to dry herself, leaning against the balcony instead as she tried to calm down from the humiliation. It would all be worth it when she found Amanirenas. Peterson could have his fancy expedition funded by the Sheikh. She really would go out there by herself with a shovel if she had to.

  She heard a step on the stone and looked up, eyes widening in surprise as she saw Sheikh Ramin standing in the archway.

  “Oh.” Startled, she backed away towards the arch on the opposite end of the balcony. “I’m sorry, I’ll just—”

  “Wait,” he called out to her, taking a cautious step closer, as though she were a timid animal he was afraid to frighten away. “I came out here following you, actually. I saw what happened. Towel?”

  He offered her a small towel with a sympathetic expression. Vanessa, face red with embarrassment, meekly accepted.

  “I’m so sorry about all that,” she said, her voice nearly a whisper as she pressed the towel to her dress. “It was my own fault for goading them in a place like this.”

  “May I ask what the argument was about?” Ramin took the towel from her and began to dry her gown himself. If Vanessa hadn’t been so mortified, she might have been touched.

  “Ah, it’s silly,” she said with a sigh. “Interdepartmental rivalry. I’m an archaeologist.”

  “Really?” He looked interested at once, eyes lighting up. They were a deep, warm brown that seemed almost flecked with gold. “What’s your specialty?”

  “Egyptology, technically,” Vanessa explained. “But my focus is on the ancient Nubian kingdoms, particularly Kush.”

  “Fascinating,” Ramin said, and Vanessa could tell he meant it. “I’ve only met one other person with that focus. He’s actually here tonight.”

  “Professor Van Rees,” Vanessa confirmed, unable to help smiling. His excitement was infectious. “He’s my mentor.”

  “A wonderful gentleman,” Ramin complimented, smile broadening in a way that made the corners of his eyes crinkle. “A brilliant scholar, although his choice of friends can be a bit questionable. I hope his choice in protégés is more sound?”

  “So do I,” Vanessa said with a small laugh. “I’m Vanessa. Vanessa Hawkins.”

  She offered her hand to shake and he accepted, bending over it to kiss the back of her fingers elegantly.

  “Sheikh Ramin Al-Zand,” he said, looking up at her in a way that made her heart flutter. “A pleasure to meet you.”

  “It’s an honor,” she said, swallowing a sudden nervous lump in her throat.

  “You know,” he said. “I could see about replacing your dress if you like.”

  Vanessa’s eyes widened at the idea.

  “No, thank you,” she replied at once. “I appreciate the offer, but I couldn’t. I only came to visit with the professor, anyway. And since I seem to have lost him and made a fool of myself, I should probably just go anyway.”

  “Please, I insist,” he said, still holding her hand. “It’s no trouble. And I would hate for you to leave early.”

  She smiled, a mix of flattered and embarrassed, and reluctantly agreed.

  He swept her away, up a back staircase to the upper floors of the palace where many finely furnished bedrooms and suites sat unoccupied.

  “My family has been using this place as a townhouse for years,” he explained as he sorted through a closet in one of the rooms. “During the winter, my father needed to be in the capital for work and my mother to attend important parties. So, my sisters and I would live here until the summer when we would return to the family palace or any of our various summer homes. But now, my sisters are married, and my mother prefers to stay in the country, and my father hardly needs so much space, which is why I am turning it into a museum. But many of our old things are still here, and unless I am mistaken, my sister Fara is just your size. Ah, here we are.”

  He pulled a dress bag from the depths of the closet, the dark blue canvas obscuring the gown within. He unzipped it a fraction to check what was within, then nodded in satisfaction.

  “This is the one,” he said, pushing it into her hands. “Please, try it on for me.”

  A little overwhelmed, Vanessa took the dress bag to a corner of the room sheltered by dressing screens and stripped off her ruined cape dress. Then, she unzipped the dress bag and felt her breath catch.

  The gown inside was unbelievably beautiful. It was soft, gauzy blue chiffon, laced with an intricate web of embroidered detail picked out in silver and crystal and pearl. She couldn’t begin to imagine how expensive it was. Just the thought of wearing it made her feel dizzy. But the idea of refusing the Sheikh after his kind gesture was even more unthinkable.

  With painstaking care, she put the dress on, terrified of accidentally ripping off one of those crystals with a clumsy gesture. Once she’d carefully zipped herself in, she stepped out from behind the screen slowly.

  “Is it all right?” she asked with a frown as Ramin turned to look at her. “I’ve never worn anything this beautiful in my life. I must look like a pig in pearls.”

  “You look magnificent,” Ramin said without hesitation, his smile making her heart race again. “You would think it was made for you.”

  He offered her his arm and she took it somewhat shyly. He led her back towards the party, and Vanessa, standing beside him this way, remembered the woman he’d entered the party with.

  “What happened to the other woman you were with?” she asked, curious.

  Ramin frowned, the first time she’d seen him look unhappy tonight.

  “She went home early,” he said. “We had a small disagreement. She made a joke that, rather than turning this place into a museum, I should just give it to her. I hear these kinds of jokes often. I do not think they are funny.”

  Sensing that it was an awkward topic, Vanessa hurried to change it.

  “So, you’re interested in archaeology?” she asked. “The professor mentioned that you’re very involved in historical projects in this area.”

  “Absolutely,” he agreed, cheering up at once. “In my culture, it is considered respectful to learn the family histories of those you do business with. And so, I was always thought to be a very polite boy, because learning the history of my people and my country always fascinated me. I learned all the major family histories, but then I kept going, back to before our nation was even formed. The history of this part of the world, its cultures and stories, are richer and more incredible than anywhere else in the world, in my opinion.”

  “I’m inclined to agree,” Vanessa said with a smile. “I’ve been obsessed with Egypt since I was a child. And, as I grew older and learned about all the other cultures that surrounded ancient Egypt—well, it became a lifelong addiction! The
re’s really never been anything else in my life.”

  “What attracted you specifically to Ksatta-Galan?” he asked as they snuck back into the party.

  “Oh, Amanirenas,” Vanessa said at once. “Do you know of her?”

  He shook his head, clearly intrigued.

  “Warrior queen of the Kush,” Vanessa said with a grin, delighted for the chance to tell the story. “The Meroitic Kingdom of Kush was a strong competitor with Egypt for most of its existence, but it couldn’t stand up to Rome. After Augustus defeated Mark Antony, Rome turned its attention south with the goal of pushing into Africa. But they would never get past Kush.”

  “Thanks to Amanirenas, I’m guessing?” Ramin said with a grin.

  “Exactly.” Vanessa was always thrilled for a chance to tell Amanirenas’s story. They found a couch in a sheltered alcove and sat as Vanessa continued. “Amanirenas and her husband Teriteqas knew Rome was coming, so while the Roman forces were occupied in Arabia, they made a preemptive strike.”

  “A bold move,” Ramin said, raising an eyebrow. “They must have known it was doomed.”

  “You would think.” Vanessa laughed. “But they were shockingly successful, sacking Aswan, Elephant Island, and beheading statues of Augustus in Philae. They carried the heads back with them and Amanirenas buried one under the doorway of her palace.”

  “I’m guessing the Romans weren’t pleased with this,” Ramin wagered, leaning on the back of the couch as he watched her, clearly amused by the animated excitement with which she told the story.

  “Oh, definitely not.” Vanessa chuckled. “The Romans struck back with a force of ten thousand men, in the process killing Teriteqas and taking one of Amanirenas’s eyes.”

  Ramin’s eyes widened. “But that’s not the end of the story?”

  “No, only the beginning,” Vanessa said. “Amanirenas, grieving and injured, took her husband’s place as Qore, king, as well as Kandake, queen mother. From then on, she fought beside her son, Akinidad. But the Romans were relentless. They destroyed the Kushite capital and kept pushing. The Kushite began to seek terms for peace.”