Shelley Munro

“Your brother has hired me as a guide. I am Sethmet.”

“Our guide?” Charlotte snapped her mouth shut as she heard herself parrot the man.

“That’s right.” He glanced down at his arm then back at her. One dark brow rose in silent mockery, and Charlotte realized she’d been staring. Her gaze shot to her half boots before she extended her hand and placed it on the hard sinews of his arm.

They strolled across the sand and rock floor of the cave as though they paraded in one of London ’s finest ballrooms.

The silence between them intensified. Charlotte swallowed as she fought to think of suitable chitchat to fill the void. Aware of the social chasm between them yet desperately wanting to breach it, she blurted, “I saw a cat last night.”

He paused, just inside the mouth of the cave, and looked down at her with an impassive expression. The seconds dragged out.

“It was beautiful,” Charlotte said.

“There are no footprints out here.”

His voice was low, husky and it strummed along her nerve endings. Charlotte shivered as a picture formed in her mind. Two people together-man and woman-naked, rubbing their bodies against each other. A small gasp of shock emerged when she saw their faces. His-Sethmet’s-and hers. Heat pooled in her cheeks while nerves danced in her stomach. She wanted him sexually. The realization stunned her since intimacy with her late husband, George, had been anything but inspiring. Certainly nothing more than duty. Charlotte swallowed and struggled to regroup.

“Perhaps the storm covered the prints, Mr. Sethmet.”

He grinned without warning, as if something amused him. “It’s just Sethmet.”

“I am Charlotte .” It seemed pointless to keep to formalities when she was so far from home. “Charlotte Webster.”

” Charlotte .” Sethmet rolled her name, making it sound unusual. Exotic. “Come. It is early still. No one stirs in your camp. Would you like to watch the birds on the oasis and break your fast with me?” He indicated the basket he held in his other hand.

Ribbons of color streaked the morning sky, a faint splash of orange and a deep pink. Charlotte sighed, feeling more at home in this foreign place than she’d ever felt amongst society in London .

Charlotte strolled at his side, very aware of the flex of muscles in his arm and the brush of his trousers against her skirt. “Can we go past the camp first?”

“If it would put your mind at rest.”

They slid down a short rocky slope and rounded the base of a dune. In the distance, the canvas tents of the camp were visible. A faint plume of smoke rose, indicating that the cooks were awake. If she returned now she’d have to go to her tent. It seemed a shame to waste such a beautiful morning.

“I’d love to visit the oasis,” Charlotte said, ignoring the feminine pride inside that warned her she would not look her best after sleeping in her clothes. She risked a glance at him, and the silent gleam of approval in his eyes warmed her all over. This early in the morning, she couldn’t blame the heat of the sun.

“What made you decide to travel to Egypt ?”

Charlotte paused then found herself wanting to tell the truth. “My husband died eight months ago. I wanted to have a break.” A break from the sympathetic tabbies and the puckered brows when she so much as spoke to an unmarried man.

“Ah,” he said.

Charlotte wondered what he meant by that since his face didn’t yield a clue.

They arrived at the edge of the oasis more quickly than Charlotte would have liked. Countless questions trembled at the tip of her tongue. Curious as a cat. That’s what George used to say, always in a chiding manner.

Sethmet stopped by the edge of the lake, in a small private spot, screened from the main path.

A gentle breeze played a musical tune as it blew through the reeds. Not far from them, a heron stabbed the water with its beak and came up with a wriggling silver fish.

He placed his basket on a flat rock and helped Charlotte sit on another rock that made the perfect seat. Her lack of primping and fussing gained his approval. Not that she needed to preen. Sethmet opened his woven basket. He had to stop the urgent need to touch, to run his hands across her silky cheek. A bark of laughter escaped at the thought. No doubt, Charlotte would slap his face at the presumption.

“Is something funny?”

“Not a thing,” Sethmet said. “Would you care for flat bread and cheese?” He spread out a blue woven cloth on the ground beside them and set out the food. The instinct to serve and nurture Charlotte came as a surprise. Most women ran after him, but being with Charlotte felt right. He wanted to protect her, even if she came from the English camp.

Charlotte was no longer committed to a man.

Satisfaction swelled within Sethmet along with an urge to kiss her. Hell, he wanted to do more than that. He wanted to claim her as mate.