Song of Isis Page 8

"How far to Thebes?"

  He glanced at her. "Do you grow impatient to be rid of this boat? Is travel with me so unpleasant?"

  She averted her gaze. "No. I--I--just wondering how--"

  The urge to slip his arm around her waist and pull her close against his skin was overwhelming.

  "--how much longer?" She turned her head to him. An intensity burned in her eyes. Did she share his passion?

  He leaned close and whispered in her ear. "Am I so awful that you cannot bear our close quarters?"

  Alex leaned back and her gaze melded with his. Slowly, slowly he leaned forward until their lips almost met. She did not flinch or show any signs of disfavor. In fact, the closer he got the more intense was her gaze. If she did not look away soon he might devour her.

  But a slight smile crossed her ripened lips. How he longed to bruise them with his own. He circled her waist with his hand and drew her to him. Her lips parted in a breathless pant and her gaze dropped beneath the fringe of her lashes. He could wait no longer. He would take her swiftly, before either one could change their heart.

  "Master! Master!" The cries of an oarsman broke the spell and Tarik released her.

  "Kasim, what is it that you would interrupt your Lord?"

  "Master, it is the woman, Seta." He gazed sheepishly toward the deck. "It is my fault. The woman has an infirmity." He wrung his hands and pointed toward the wake of his boat.

  "Yeah. Yeah. I know all that. Cut to the chase."

  Both men shot Alex a quick glance. What were these words she was always saying? Tarik understood the words, but the meaning puzzled him. What was this chase? "Tell me of Seta."

  "I fear she has fallen to her death."

  "What? Seta?" Alex ran out onto the deck, kicked off her sandals and stood poised at the edge.

  "Stop. You cannot go." He motioned to Kasim, Batwan, and Kastor, but they shrank back in fear. Not too many relished the crocodile's bite. At this time of day, most of the crocs were asleep in the shade of the bank. Still, he could not allow a woman to shame him in front of his men.

  "Someone must do it." He pulled off his nemes cloth and dove into the water. Its coolness took his breath for a moment, but he broke the surface.

  "Tarik, be careful." Alex's voice spurred him on. Gulping great quantities of air, he dove. The dark water hid the woman from him. He dove again.

  Although it seemed like hours had passed, he knew that could not be. At the bottom, he caught a bandaged-wrapped foot. Cold flesh against his gave him an eerie feeling, one that urged him to let go and swim toward the surface. But he held on, and in no time laid Seta's lifeless body onto the painted deck.

  Alex leapt into action. "Stand back. Let me in."

  She pushed Kasim out of the way, knelt down and placed her fingers on Seta's neck. "Her heart's stopped. We've got to get it started."

  Turning Seta on her back, she opened the dead woman's mouth, and reached inside. But there was greater strangeness for all to behold. Crossing her palms, Alex pushed on Seta's chest, counting. "One, two, three, four, five...."

  She continued counting until fifteen. Then she blew air into Seta's mouth and again started pushing and counting.

  Yes. As he feared, Alex was mad.

  "Stop this, Alex," Tarik ordered. "Do not grieve for this servant. I will get you another in Thebes."

  She threw him a gaze mixed with horror and disgust. "Are you nuts?"

  Tarik watched mutely as she continued to push, count, and then breathe. Her obvious distress was his fault. He should not have allowed her so much time with Seta. They had become attached. Grief forced her to do these things. It would do no good to stop her now. He folded his arms and waited. Soon, Alex would grow tired and stop of her own accord.

  Suddenly, in the middle of her strange ritual, water spewed from Seta's mouth. She coughed, weakly at first, but then in great, choking torrents of sputtering, retching, and gasping. Her eyes opened and her bewildered gaze darted from the men to Alex to Tarik.

  Tarik let out a gasp of amazement. What was this miracle?

  The men shrank back in horror and fell to their knees. But Tarik strode forward and knelt next to Alex. At length, he examined Seta who smiled at him.

  "What is this thing you did?" he said.

  "Cardiopulmonary resuscitation. We call it CPR. Now do you believe I'm who I say?

  Kasim shuddered. Head bowed, he gazed at the deck. "You are a goddess. Oh great Simw, I must be punished. I was rebraiding a great pile of rope and--"

  "What? Tell me of this," Tarik commanded.

  "Seta tripped on the rope and fell into the river. And Ra sent his goddess to give back her life and take mine."

  Wailing, Kasim collapsed to the floor. Alex stopped ministering to Seta and laid her hand on his head. "I'm not mad at you. Accidents happen."

  But Kasim continued to beg forgiveness. Alex glanced at Tarik in an unspoken plea for intervention.

  "Kasim stop your wailing, you mongoose. Alex will not harm you. Her magic is not of the netherworld, but of this one." He hoped what he had said to his oarsman was true for he, too, was in awe. It was all he could do, himself, not to bow in fear and adoration of her miracle. He waved Kasim away. At his command, the man bowed and scrabbled toward the far most end of the boat. He gave her an uneasy smile and silence settled between them.

  Alex helped a still coughing Seta sit up, but it was clear she would be all right.

  "Alex? How is it that you can do this magical thing? Bring the dead back to life?"

  All along she'd been insisting she was Simw, but he'd scoffed, belittled, and badgered her about madness. Now, perhaps it was he who was driven mad and she was but an apparition to his senses.

  She glanced at him as though he'd asked her about the weather. "It's nothing much and it most certainly isn't magic. Basic physiology one-oh-one. I learned it in medical school, but it's not hard. I'll show you."

  "You would show me now?"

  "Of course." She raised her gaze to the sky. "I hope I'm not breaking some unwritten law of physics that will destroy the earth by showing you." She shrugged her shoulders. "I just can't stand by and watch people die when I can save them. That's what I took the oath for."

  Tarik leaned near. "You are addressing your gods?"

  She smiled. "I've only got one and I sure hope I don't piss Him off."

  Tarik ignored the `piss him off' remark she'd made. He would add that to the growing list of things he intended to ask her about later. He still had to comprehend what had just transpired. "Show me."

  "All right. Lay down. I'll do it to you so you can understand what I'm doing."

  A sense of apprehension filled him. If she could bring Seta back to life, then she most certainly could end his.

  "The whole object of CPR is to get the patient's heart beating again."

  She smoothed her hand across his chest, trailed her fingers to his neck, and pressed in on his throat.

  "First, I check for a pulse."

  "Pulse?" he groaned. The feel of her cool fingers across his hot, wet chest sent shivers of ecstasy down his spine. Was sensation part of the miracle?

  "Here, let me show you." She guided his fingers to a throbbing point alongside his own neck and held her hand over his. A strange sensation beat against his fingers and traveled up his arm. What was this magic this woman possessed?

  She lifted her fingers. "Good, strong pulse. You're certainly alive. Next, it's important to make sure the airway is clear."

  She cupped his neck with one hand, traced her fingers across his lips, and pulled them slightly apart. "If there's something inside, I have to clear it."

  This was torture. Sweet, cruel, torture. By the gods it was her hands that worked the magic. Hands so soft, so delicate, so determined they sent shivers of desire coursing throughout his body.

  "Then, I compress the chest to start the heart beating until it can beat on its own." She trailed her fingers across his burning skin and pressed down on his chest a couple of times
. "One, two, three, four." She leaned close to his ear. "It's important to count. After fifteen compressions, I breathe into..."

  The scent of queres was everywhere. His loins ached for release. There was a glint of humor in her eyes. She had to know of his torment, yet she did not stop.

  Her hands drifted up behind his head and she brought her lips close to his. "Breathe into the lungs so the brain isn't compromised."

  Her words were as cold water. He sat up. "No. It matters not what the brain receives, for it is nothing but a useless substance that clutters the head."

  She pushed him back down. "Your head maybe, but that's what makes everything in your body work. We know that in my time."

  Before he could react to what she said, she leaned down, her lips brushed against his. The heady scent of unguent, woman, and life filled him with need.

  "That's why I breathed into Seta's mouth," she whispered.

  Her gaze raked boldly over him. The sensation of her body pressed against his chest and her lips brushing his was torture. Sweet exhilarating torture. Again, she traced her fingers along his jaw and gently touched her lips to his. "Like this."

  For an instant, he forgot her demonstration and with a groan wrapped her in his grasp. Her life's breath mingled with his own.

  His head swirled. This CPR was an aphrodisiac. Whether or not it kept one alive, he did not know. But he would surely die if he did not take her to his bed.

  Chapter Six

  THE THOUGHT to push him away flashed briefly through her mind, but instead she reveled in the strength of his embrace, the hardness of his chest, and passion of his lips on hers. He tasted of salt and wind and sun bronzed male. His tongue traced her lips and shivers of desire raced through her. She returned his kiss with a hunger that shocked her.

  She'd suspected the effect her CPR demonstration would have on him, but she hadn't cared. Her lips hovering over his had demanded that this happen. It had been so long since she'd been really kissed, especially by a man who touched something deep inside, a man she couldn't stop thinking about, a man who she actually wanted intensified her experience. His tongue queried hers in a primordial quest for permission. Her answering thrust sent his mouth on a journey of sensual awakening across her cheeks, down her neck, into the hidden valley of her breasts.

  Alex moaned softly.

  But as quickly as he had begun, he stopped. Raising his mouth from hers, he gazed into her eyes, rolled away, and rose to his feet. Surprised by his sudden change of mood, Alex stood and gazed at his clouded expression. Why had he backed off? Maybe she'd frightened him; or maybe women from his time weren't as forward; or maybe he just didn't like her?

  His gaze darkened and, as if wrestling with himself, he turned and paced the deck. "This cannot be. You are for Pharaoh."

  "But--" She'd hoped he'd changed his mind about Pharaoh's gift idea. Fat chance of that.

  "Master," Kasim shouted into the tent. "We approach Thebes."

  His gaze cleared and he turned toward the opening. "Good. We go to Pharaoh at sunset. Batwan," he pointed back to her. "Help Alex with Seta. We will take them to the palace."

  His words slammed into her like a lead weight. This time there was no misunderstanding. He'd planned to turn her over to the pharaoh and be on his merry way. Cold-hearted bastard. After everything they'd shared.

  What had they shared? His kiss had been nothing more than a simple biological reflex. Something he'd probably experienced a hundred, a thousand times before.

  She glanced over at him. But even a thousand kisses wouldn't stir her like his one embrace.

  She helped Seta into the tent and sat down on the bed. All she could think about was the shocked, disbelieving look on his face when she'd brought Seta back from her watery death. And then his obvious passion at her nearness. Had she frightened him away?

  No. That couldn't be. If he'd been so scared, he wouldn't have come near her. Just the opposite. CPR had turned him on.

  The thought of his lips on hers burned her cheeks and she swiped a hand across her still yearning mouth. She'd been stupid to have lost her head. He could've had all of her right then and there and she'd have liked it.

  But something had stopped him. It wasn't fear. He'd never shown fear of anything. On the contrary, he simply hadn't wanted her. She hadn't tripped his trigger, that's all. Hell, that's what she got for getting involved with an older man--four thousand years older, to be exact.

  Tarik gazed out across the Nile toward Thebes and beyond. Pharaoh's white-washed palace glistened in the sunlight. Since Alex was well-trained enough to grace Mentu's court, he would soon be rid of his passenger. He had tried to keep busy all through the docking, giving orders and greeting old friends. But now, resting on the bow and watching the Nile's black waters lap against the boat, his thoughts turned to Alex.

  How had he let this crazy woman take control? Had he lost all sense of duty? No. Not entirely. By the grace of Isis, he had stopped. Yet, the dull ache of desire still lingered at the thought of her. Her lips were full of the same hunger he possessed for her and she had returned his embrace with eagerness.

  But she was not his for the taking. She'd been found in Pharaoh's tomb, on Pharaoh's land, in Pharaoh's kingdom. She was his by default. And it was Tarik's honor and duty to give to Pharaoh what belonged to him. Yet, the thought of sampling her delights overpowered him. Once before, he'd almost succumbed to her spell.

  But that was before he'd known her. Before openly promising her to Pharaoh. Now, everything had been set in motion. No doubt his idle words traveled fast to the most high and, now, the mighty Mentuhotep eagerly awaited his prize. Honor demanded Tarik complete his journey and present her to Pharaoh untouched.

  But it was not that simple. Alex had beguiled him with her beauty and magic. Before his very eyes, she brought Seta back from the dead and then attempted to show him her magic. Within her delectable lips were the secrets of the gods and she'd sworn to tell him everything. Even her kiss proved her desire for him.

  But, he'd remembered his duty and had broken the embrace. How noble, how admirable, how stupid. He saw the hurt in her eyes when he turned his back to her. That was good. The pain and embarrassment of his rebuff would keep her distant enough so he could present her to Pharaoh with little argument.

  He watched his men unlatch the rigging and drop the sail. Soon she would be but a memory. Yes, he might see her occasionally, but they would never again share the intimacy of this journey.

  She had expressed a desire to see Thebes. What did he care if she saw Thebes with him? No doubt Mentuhotep would show her. She was just a woman he'd found in the desert, staggering from Mentu's tomb. One of many women he'd set his lips upon.

  Yet, if she was no one special, why did his chest pain him every time he thought of her? He did not know why, but he had to have a few more moments alone with her. Perhaps he could stay their separation a while longer? He would send a messenger to Pharaoh, telling him of a delay. Then he would be the one to show her Mentuhotep's many building projects, the shrines and temples adorning the western shore. Yes. That would give him time to explain his logic, and prepare them both for what must come.

  ALEX SAT IN the afternoon shadow of the tent and watched Tarik approach her. His corded upper thighs were covered by a white pleated kilt that glowed against his tanned skin. "Come, Alex. I will show you Thebes."

  "But I thought--"

  "There is little time before Pharaoh's vizier comes for you and I promised to show you Thebes, did I not?"

  Yes, he'd promised. He seemed to do a lot of promising. Too much, in fact. She bit her lip until the metallic taste of blood stopped her. The thought of living in a harem made her sick. She'd gotten used to Tarik. He seemed to be a progressive thinker and at the very least they had something in common--medicine. He was a doctor. She was a doctor.

  Spending the rest of her natural life with him wouldn't have been so bad. Hope surged in her veins. Somehow, during the short afternoon they had left, she had
to convince him to change his mind about taking her to the palace.

  In the hottest part of the day, Tarik and Alex wandered the empty streets of Thebes. To protect her from serious burn, he made sure she covered herself--as if he knew the ramifications of skin cancer. For the most part, the dry heat was livable and the privacy it afforded them was worth it.

  They came upon a columned structure filled with hieroglyphs, icons, and statues.

  Alex lifted her veil, shook off the dust, and poked her head into the first room. "This is lovely. Is this a temple for Isis? This place reminds me of your courtyard. Did you design it?"

  A mysterious smile crossed his lips. "No. As a young boy I traveled with my father who also ministered Mentuhotep's father. But those times were sad. I often thought of home and my heart was heavy. When I came here to study medicine, Mentu remembered my sadness and built this for me to worship."

  "You're good friends?" Her hopes about changing his mind sank.

  "Yes. I am blessed. Isis has given me many gifts and I have pledged my allegiance to her. I give offerings and pray for Mentu whenever I am here. I shall now pray for you, whenever I return."

  `For me?' Her breath caught in her throat. She placed her hand on his arm and tugged. "I'd like to see inside."

  "Come. The priests are no doubt resting from the midday heat." He led her into a cool inner chamber, walls inlaid in gold. "We pray."

  Tarik knelt and placed incense in the burner. Its rich perfume was vaguely familiar. "What is that aroma?"

  He smiled. "Queres. Very rare. You should know it."

  "I do, but...."

  "Did Nafari give you a fragrance to wear before your trip to Thebes?"

  She rubbed her hand across her forehead. "I--I don't."

  Of course, the old woman had told her something about queres. What was it? The scent would bring promise, joy, and riches. "Yes. Nafari gave it to me. Why do you ask?"

  "How crafty the old woman is. She plays matchmaker."

  "What do you mean?"

  "It is nothing. I give it in offering to Isis whenever I can. I am sure Nafari hoped you would beguile me with it."