Desert Rogue (17 page)

The simple truth of the matter was the longer they rode, the less time he would have to spend with Vicky cradled alongside him. Such intimacy had been painful before, smelling the womanly scent of her, listening to her occasional breathy little moans as she slept. And all the while, lying awake with her body pressed against his, he had wondered what it would be like to trace the curve of her neck with his lips, or what sort of provocative sounds she would make if she were lying beneath him, the recipient of those male urgings that were driving him to distraction.

Tonight, however, he knew that the sweet torment he had experienced the last two nights would bring him to the brink of madness, and he couldn't be certain he was man enough to resist sliding over the edge into rapturous lunacy.

It would be so easy to surrender, following their afternoon encounter with the dervishes, he thought with a snort of self-derision. He'd played his part too well, the possessive male willing to maim or kill in order to protect his woman. He had been chagrined to realize that when the Arabs had departed, his feelings had not. They were still running away with him like a driverless stagecoach, careening wildly as he left the path of common sense he had always prided himself on traveling.

But the reins of self-control had slipped beyond his reach for the moment, and he knew he would find it impossible to slow things down and set himself on the right course once again.

He began to understand why he had so often provoked Vicky into arguing. Squabbling was a more acceptable release for the tension her nearness created within him than the one his too-vivid imagination engendered. And because of the emotions he had tasted that day watching the dervishes crave the woman in his care, he was having great difficulty coping with his feelings at present.

And so, in spite of his selfishness, Jed planned to keep Vicky and Ali plodding across the sand, transformed into fine silver dust by the glow of the moonlight, until he was so exhausted Vicky would be no temptation for him when they camped for the night.

On and on they went, the stars dimly lighting their way and the jackals, invisible in the darkness of the night, crossing their path, just as visions of Vicky stole across Jed's mind until he found it hard to concentrate on the things that should be claiming his attention—their survival, for one.

Eventually, however, Jed began to feel his capacity to think become clouded and the rigidity of his body melt into softness with the weariness rapidly stealing over him.

It was safe to stop now, he reflected with relief, finally calling a halt to their swaying ride aboard the bartered dromedaries.

“Urkud,”
he called to his beast, easily handling its descent as it fell upon its front knees before lowering its hindquarters.

Riding camels was no problem for him. Vicky, however, would need his assistance, he thought, his dark eyebrows drawing together in annoyance.

For a moment, he resented being so totally responsible for her, until he felt himself flush at his uncharitable attitude. He had always seen it as his duty to lend a helping hand to folks in need. When he considered the strangers he had assisted, how could he ever countenance turning away from Vicky when he might make this taxing journey less difficult for her? He couldn't, and well he knew it.

His mouth set in a grim line, he walked to stand in front of Victoria's camel, while she sat pale and fatigued above him, the dark smudges under her eyes evident even in the moonlight.

The sight of her made him feel guilty for keeping her riding solely to ease his own unsettlement. But he hastily brushed that aside. He already suffered from too many emotions where Victoria Shaw was concerned, and he was not about to tolerate another one.

“All right, Vicky, when the camel begins to go down, I want you to stand up in your stirrups and lean back so far that you think you're about to fall on that little tail of yours. That's the only thing that will keep you from toppling over this fool varmint's neck. Think you can do that?”

“I can do anything that's required in order to dismount from this vile creature,” she replied through lips compressed so tightly Jed was surprised she could speak at all.

With the camel's unrelenting swaying as they had traversed the moonlit landscape, Victoria had come to understand exactly why the beasts were called the ships of the desert. She was even now experiencing a sensation akin to mal de mer, and she had the awful feeling she would disgrace herself by being sick if she didn't dismount immediately. Who would have ever supposed a few days ago that she would be longing desperately to sit upon the little mare that had carried her into the desert?

“Good girl,” Jed said with grudging admiration. Despite her pampered upbringing, the woman had pluck; he couldn't take that away from her.

Wielding the stick used by camel drivers, Jed barked the order that would bring the animal to its knees. Aside from the widening whites of Vicky's eyes, she gave no indication of how frightened she was, though she did scramble off the beast with alacrity.

As the obdurate dromedary took it into its head to rise again, Victoria delighted in having the sand once more beneath her feet. If she hadn't been tired, she would have smiled softly in amusement. The mare, the uneven surface of the desert, even Jed himself, things she had generally detested at the outset of this journey, were suddenly sources of familiar comfort. Dear Lord, but she had changed. She answered Jed's gaze with one of her own. Regarding him in silence, she thought of Hayden, and realized that no matter how much she was transformed, it would never be enough.

Heaving a sigh that might have been exhaustion, might have been regret, Victoria remembered that there was work to be done.

“How am I supposed to unsaddle this demon?” she asked, gingerly stepping closer to the camel who was eyeing her with the same sort of suspicion apparent on her own face.

“You're not,” Jed stated. “If you tried to pick up that saddle, you'd only get hurt...or else be plain ineffectual. Tend to the bedrolls and scrounge up something for us to eat. I'll see to the animals tonight. Ali can help me if he's fit.”

Just then, Victoria's camel decided to allow its usual nasty disposition to surface. It began to bray in a loud, raucous voice, scolding these two humans to hurry in its care. To emphasize its impatience, it spit, missing Victoria by a fraction of an inch.

“Abominable creature,” she muttered as she unlashed the bedding from Jed's mount, a beast that was slightly better behaved.

Jed chuckled. For an instant, he had thought Victoria was going to spit back square in the camel's eye. Good God, but she was a fiery woman, he thought, becoming engrossed in the gentle sway of her hips as she walked away to relay his orders to Ali. Even in her rumpled
gallabiya,
so large it was virtually shapeless, and with that ridiculous felt hat perched on her head, Jed found Vicky Shaw to be incredibly sexy. With a whoosh of breath meant to expel her from his thoughts and release the tension building within him, Jed turned to the camel, surprised at how difficult he found it to concentrate on even this simple task.

Once again he had been caught off guard. No matter how many times he had vowed to ignore the woman, where Vicky was concerned, promises were worthless as fool's gold. All nice and shiny on the surface, they had no value whatsoever. He was filled with self-disgust at his inability to remain distant when it came to her.

Exhausted as he was, and caught up in the incongruity of his attraction to Miss Victoria Shaw, Jed Kincaid grew careless. He didn't hear the soft whinnying of a horse in the surrounding blackness. Worse yet, he was completely unprepared for the bloodcurdling yell suddenly severing the tranquillity of the night, accompanied by the blur of marauding horsemen and the glint of moonlight on brandished swords. Before he knew what was happening, a group of brigands, three of whom were mounted on steeds all too familiar, came swooping into the camp.

“Son of a bitch!” Jed exclaimed as he raced toward Victoria, pulling the pistol from his waistband. What the hell was the matter with him, not to have seen this coming instead of mooning around like some useless, lovesick calf? He wasn't a man if he couldn't keep the woman he guarded safe from harm.

Defeat was not something that sat right with Jed Kincaid. He would save Victoria or he'd damn well die trying. About to issue a war cry himself, Yankee-style, the challenging yell dissolved before it truly formed when he saw one of the dervishes riding down hard on Victoria. Though Ali was already engaged in combat with another brigand, he sought to protect her body with his. Yet Jed feared she would be trampled. In an instant, he knew terror of the type he had not experienced since he was a young, tree-climbing boy, when the darkness of the night had hidden all that was familiar. But now, it was forfeiting the unknown, each new and unexplored facet of Vicky that he had yet to uncover, that filled him with dread.

Run, Vicky,
he wanted to scream.
Run into the blackness, the safety of the night. I'll find you when this is over.
But he had caught the broadside of a large, curved blade, losing both his breath and gun in the process. After that, he had no wind left for anything but survival. And he had to survive, he told himself, his heart beating in his chest as fast as a steam locomotive, or else Vicky would be lost forever.

Still struggling to get to her side as Ali did his best to fight off the dervish swinging down to capture her, Jed managed to avoid the deadly slashing of two horsemen by staying between them at close range. Feinting right and then left, he rolled under nervous hooves at one point, all in his struggle to reach Vicky.

Yet the two dervishes would not relinquish him. The sharp edge of a sword almost caught him, but Jed's natural dexterity saved him, and he was left with only a scratch running below his cheekbone. Had he not dodged when he had, his head would have been severed from his body, and the awareness of what had almost occurred gave him new vitality as he swore not to fail Vicky again.

Somehow, he was able to retrieve the knife kept in the top of his boot. With a fierce strength born of desperation, he grabbed at the hemline of one of his attackers and, with a mighty wrench, unseated him, bringing the bastard to the ground.

His knife quickly found its mark, but he had barely rolled aside when the second attacker rushed him again. Narrowly escaping the descending blade, Jed turned, the hard planes of his face a deadly mask filled with fury. Grabbing the dead man's weapon and leaping onto the horse left riderless, he engaged the assailant in battle, frantic to dispatch the enemy and hasten to the other side of the camp before it was too late.

Hacking wildly, he advanced, his countenance that of a madman, forcing his foe to retreat against his violent onslaught. Soon understanding that he would be no match for a man who fought so recklessly, the intruder took flight, leaving Jed free to hurriedly cover the ground between him and Vicky.

But as he turned his horse in her direction, he saw her being lifted up onto the leader's saddle. The dervish sneered at her fruitless attempts to kick and scratch while Ali was busy fighting for his life with yet another of the raiders.

“Vicky!” Jed yelled loudly. Her name was torn from his throat in a roar of anguished fear and pain so rife with emotion that if either of them had truly listened, they would have heard in that one word all of the things Jed felt but had never admitted, even to himself.

However, there was no time to consider anything. There was barely time for action. Without a care for his own safety when the leader raised a rifle and aimed in his direction, Jed charged. Instinctively, he threw his arms around his mount's neck and slipped from the saddle, riding suspended above the ground along the side of the horse like some warring Indian brave.

Cursing that his target had eluded him, the dervish turned his attention to Victoria and escape. But before he could do so, Jed was beside him, leaping upward from his horse to the stallion. He landed on the rump of the skittish beast, where the dervish and his rifle no longer posed a threat. Mercilessly, Jed crooked a powerful forearm around the villain's throat and squeezed.

His supply of air effectively stopped, the Arab's hands flew to his neck to fight off Jed's muscular arm, while Victoria jumped from the saddle. Ignoring the rearing and pawing of the nervous horse, she was only concerned for Jed's safety. Her anxiety grew when she saw the dervish pull a knife just as the two men fell to the ground, engaged in a life-and-death struggle.

She had no reason to worry. Summoning every reserve of brute force he possessed, Jed tightened his arm around the abductor's neck and a snapping of bone signaled the fight was over.

As Jed rose to his feet, his lungs gulping for air, the two dervishes who had survived made ready to flee. While the one retreated from Ali, the other grabbed the reins of the riderless horses. Then they galloped swiftly into the night leaving the bodies of their fallen comrades behind.

Barely conscious of Ali picking up a rifle and somehow managing to discharge shots in the wake of the attackers' departure, Jed paid them little heed. His only concern at the moment was that Victoria had not been harmed.

Holding out a protective hand, he helped her rise from the spot where she had remained on her knees in the sand. When his fingers closed around hers, he became aware of her trembling and castigated himself for having allowed the raid to ever take place.

“Are you all right?” he asked. His voice was husky as his eyes swiftly moved in assessment over her slight form.

“Yes,” she replied, her vulnerability obvious. But she paid no heed to her own needs as she tenderly wiped the blood from his face. “You're a brave man, Jed. Thank you for saving me.”

At her words, a steely look descended like a curtain across Jed's eyes, turning their clear emerald green to a smoky hue. Saving her? It was
his
fault she was nearly kidnapped. Why didn't she understand that? Jed asked himself, rejecting any rights he had to accept this woman's thanks.