The Cobra & the Concubine (Khamsin Warriors of the Wind) (35 page)

Fresh sweat dampened his palms. What if he had lost her? Why would someone deliberately place a cobra in their bed? The snake was native to the desert. It had not wandered into the city by mistake.

A shudder raced through him as he watched Badra neatly pit a date and then slide the fruit past her parted lips. First the poison. Now a cobra?

He glanced at the bed again, the bunched-up pillows he’d placed next to her body to keep her warm while he was gone. Pillows resembling a man’s body...

Looking around the room, he saw something suspicious. He grabbed the broomstick again and stood on the bed.

"What are you doing?" Badra sounded amused.

He put a finger to his lips, indicating silence. He glanced upward. The broomstick rose through the air, toward the ceiling. He poked around and his efforts were rewarded. A small door swung upward.

A trapdoor! Perfect for dropping unexpected surprises upon unsuspecting guests. The cobra had been dropped from the ceiling, directly onto the pillows, which resembled a man’s sleeping form.

Someone had tried to kill him. Again.

Never again would he leave Badra alone. When she left shortly thereafter for the women’s baths, he paid a eunuch to accompany her.

A soft knock sounded from outside. Kenneth sprang to his feet and swung open one of the double doors.

Masud, the head eunuch, stood in the hallway, his dark face looking worried. "I apologize for disturbing you, but I am greatly concerned. One of the guests reported a snake in his room. Have you seen anything ... unusual?"

Kenneth narrowed his eyes. He walked out into the hall and shut the door. "Yes. Someone tried to kill me with a cobra. It nearly bit Badra. What the hell is going on around here?"

The man’s hands shook a little. "Is she ... well?"

"As well as can be expected considering she nearly died."

"My humble apologies. It is an escaped pet belonging to a guest. It must have gotten into the ceiling."

"A pet?" Kenneth leaned forward, getting in the man’s face. "You let poisonous pets inside this place? I don’t believe you. I want answers. What the hell is a cobra doing in here?"

Masud backed off, gestured for the guards. "I assure you, sir, there is nothing wrong. Just a guest who wanted some exotic entertainment and who lost his pet."

"I’m about to lose my temper," Kenneth snapped, fury boiling inside him. "I want answers. Take me to see this brothel’s owner. Right now."

"Sir, I assure you, it was an accident ..."

Kenneth had backed Musad against the wall when, suddenly, a flash of sharp steel appeared against his chest. A guard held a scimitar point a whisper from his breastbone. Kenneth drew in a deep breath and gave the man a cold stare. "Fine. But know I’m on my guard from this moment on, in case other peoples’ ... pets ... decide to drop in for unannounced visits."

Apologizing profusely, with repeated assurances it would not happen again, Masud salaamed and left.

Kenneth watched the man and his guards go, certain now that he had been the target and not Badra. He did not trust it not to happen again.

Someone had tried killing him, and nearly succeeded in killing his beloved instead. But who would want him dead?

He’d blamed the attack in his bedroom in London on Rashid, but now he saw a more intricate pattern appearing. Had someone tried disguising himself as Rashid, to draw blame away?

The overdose of aphrodisiac he might possibly have believed was an accident. But the cobra dropping onto the bed was not. A grim smile tightened his face as he went back into his room and stared at the dying lamplight. How poetic. To kill the Cobra with a cobra.

Unfortunately, more than one person might benefit from his death. Victor, his second cousin, would inherit all, including the title. And Victor had been inside the brothel. Then again, de Morgan also had reason. With Kenneth dead, de Morgan might claim the necklaces and the dig artifacts, making him a very wealthy man.

Kenneth’s thoughts went to Badra, his first concern. He jammed a trembling hand through his dark locks. He’d nearly lost her. His plan had been to escape today, take her to the Shepherd’s Hotel and formally ask for her hand in marriage. They’d already whispered of their future life and the gaggle of babies they’d have. They’d declared their love for each other. But could he marry her when an assassin lurked in the background?

No. It was too risky. He could not endanger her life.

Best to transfer her into Rashid’s protection until the danger passed. His muscles tensed and Kenneth rolled a shoulder.

He could tell Badra and Jabari about the threat to his life, but Jabari would insist on remaining behind to deal with the threat. His brother would not abandon him. And Badra? Badra would insist as well. He’d seen her courage, her fearlessness. And then the assassin might use the woman he loved to try and lure him to his death.

When she returned from the bath, Kenneth left Badra with a soft kiss and a eunuch guarding her door, and he headed for the hotel. There he went to the front desk and hired a messenger to take a note to Dashur, telling Zaid to have de Morgan, Victor and the team report back to the Shepherd’s by the afternoon. When Badra was safe, he’d set his trap for a killer ...

In the expansive sitting room of his suite at the Shepherd’s Hotel, he organized the Khamsin warriors into a war party. When he was done, he stood back, admiring his work.

Ten Khamsin warriors had shed their traditional indigo for fine ivory-and-crimson silk robes,
keffiyehs
and blousy trousers. They looked like wealthy sheikhs, and they departed immediately for the brothel. Even Jabari and Ramses were dressed in light blue robes and white turbans instead of Khamsin indigo.

But it was Rashid who drew the most attention.

Clean-shaven, he looked remarkably different. His smooth face held classical features, good bone structure, an arrogant chin. The Khamsin warrior wore Kenneth’s trousers and white shirt. Though it was tight on his more muscular body, it fit well enough. Despite his bronzed skin, in the tailored suit Rashid looked startlingly English. An odd feeling jarred Kenneth. He shrugged it away.

Kenneth handed over Khamsin clothing he’d had a seamstress alter for a small frame. Rashid secured it with a rope around his waist, then tucked daggers, pistols and swords around his body by wrapping them in cloth. He became a walking arsenal.

Ramses took fabric, padded to make a fake bosom, and attached it to Rashid’s chest. Rashid slipped on a formless black
abbaya
. His chest jutted out considerably.

"My breasts are too big. They do not look real."

"They do too. I am an expert on this," Ramses advised.

When he finished, all the men looked on critically.

"The boots might give him away. But hopefully no one will look at your feet," Kenneth noted, staring at the soft leather peeping out from beneath the
abbaya
.

Rashid donned the black head-covering and veiled himself. Jabari had found cosmetics and lined his eyes with kohl and blue shadow.

Ramses studied him. "You look very pretty."

"I look like a fool," Rashid grunted.

"I would pay good money for you," Jabari teased.

Rashid’s blue-shadowed eyes glowered.

"Not as much as he would pay for Ramses," Kenneth spoke up.

Ramses glowered at Kenneth.

Kenneth gave a nod. "Well then—let’s be off, shall we? You go first and I’ll meet you there."

When Kenneth arrived at the Pleasure Palace, he immediately sensed something was wrong. As he surrendered his pistol to Masud, he saw Rashid. The warrior stood quietly near Jabari and Ramses, head down, his look one of a woman humbled. Another visitor hovered nearby. A Turk, clad in flowing robes, staring at Rashid as if spellbound. Clearly besotted.

Kenneth muttered a low curse. He hadn’t counted on any male suitors being attracted to Rashid. Jabari’s frustrated gaze met his.
And what is your plan now
,
Khepri
, he silently asked.

He mouthed back,
I will take care of it
.

Ramses inquired in a loud voice about how much he could obtain for selling Wafa, their sister.

"She will make an excellent kitchen slave," Jabari added. "She is very obedient."

Rashid kept his head lowered, his shoulders hunched over to minimize his height.

"A kitchen slave? Such a jewel as this? I will purchase her for my bedroom," the Turk said, licking his thin lips.

Kenneth heard a very faint mumbling in English from Rashid, "I knew the breasts were too big."

Masud held up a hand. "Before any transactions are made, I must inspect her body. We do not take unhealthy women."

He went toward Rashid.

"Of course," Ramses said easily, cleverly stepping before him. "But we will want to inspect your women as well. Perhaps we may work out a trade for my brother and me to spend time here, if your women are lovely enough. We like a woman who is dark, with big breasts. An Ethiopian, perhaps. Do you have any?"

Jabari nodded, looking eager.

A calculating look lit Masud’s dark eyes. "I will take you to one you may be interested in." He turned to the Turk. "Look your fill of this one now. I will be back momentarily to inspect her, and we will argue a price."

He escorted Jabari and Ramses out of the room. As soon as he departed, the fat Turk came forward, giving Rashid a critical look. Kenneth hung back, watching warily.

The man smacked his lips. "If I am to purchase you for my slave, I want to see how responsive a woman you are."

He reached out and clapped a hand onto Rashid’s groin. Shock dawned on his face. "What is this?"

Rashid slugged him. The Turk went down on the soft carpet. "It is called a penis, you son of a jackal," he growled.

"Was that necessary?"

"You deem it not necessary, next time a man lays a hand upon your private parts," Rashid muttered.

They dragged the unconscious Turk over to a corner and hid him among some crates and boxes. "He hopefully won’t gain consciousness before we can leave here," Kenneth mused.

Sweat gleamed on Rashid’s face.

"You’re dripping," Kenneth said. Rashid blotted at the moisture with the edge of his scarf. Damn, was this going to work? He went to the door Masud had escorted Jabari and Ramses through and listened. "They’re not in the corridor. Let’s go."

They both took deep breaths and Kenneth opened the door leading to the harem. Two guards standing nearby shot them a suspicious look. They patted Kenneth down for weapons. He prayed they would not do the same to his companion. One of the eunuchs peered closely at Rashid’s veiled face.

"You are new here?"

Rashid trembled. "I—I was just purchased." Good. His normally deep voice was high enough.

The guard frowned. "Who would want an ugly sow like you?"

"She’s mine. I brought her as a servant for my concubine," Kenneth said quickly.

The guard gave Rashid a rough push. "Get out of my sight."

Rashid meekly bowed his head and shuffled along. Kenneth held his breath, praying the weapons Rashid hid would not clank together.

When they reached Badra’s apartments, he slipped money to the eunuch on guard to run an errand. When they went inside, Badra rushed over. Her eyes widened as Rashid tore off his veil.

Delight and surprise shone in her eyes. "Rashid, are you here with Kenneth to help me escape?"

Grinning, he shed the veil, then wiped off the makeup with a damp cloth Kenneth provided. He removed the weapons carefully from the Khamsin clothing. Ten daggers, four scimitars and six pistols. Rashid sat on the bed, tugging free the flat-soled boots, tossing them to Badra. Then he took a pair of scissors from his pocket and handed them to Kenneth.

"Here. Cut my hair. If I am to look the part of an Englishman, my hair must be shorter."

Kenneth fought back his astonishment. He rapidly trimmed Rashid’s hair to just below the jawline. Rashid then donned a pair of Kenneth’s polished shoes and stood, the transformation complete.

With the short hair and English clothing, Rashid looked startlingly familiar. Kenneth could not remember who he resembled. His attention swung to Badra, who emerged from behind a silk dressing screen. They stuffed paper into her boots. She slipped them on. Kenneth wound a turban around her head and veiled her lower face with its trailing end. Even guised as a Khamsin warrior, she could not be more beautiful. Worry sluiced through him. This would never work.