the effort would allow her a moment to compose herself, to cool her flushed face. Others entered the room.
Or maybe they’d been there the whole time and she’d not noticed. The thought made her realize how careless she was.
“I wanted to tell you that you received a letter from England,” Lady Bess said. “I don’t know why it was sent to the consulate. I forwarded it to your office this morning.”
“Thank you.”
“Will you be attending the picnic next week at the palace?”
“If I’m back in town.”
His deep words fell over Brianna. She turned to look at him.
“Of course,” Lady Bess said. “I had forgotten. You’re escorting our dear Mrs. Pritchards to Alexandria tomorrow. Such a terrible tragedy.” Lady Bess’s blue eyes fell on Brianna with discreet curiosity. “Miss Donally,” she said. “I see that Mr. Cross left.”
“He had to get back to the museum.”
Lady Bess smiled up at Major Fallon. “If you wish to find anything in Cairo, ask Mr. Cross. He and my husband share a passion for antiquities and good wine. You will of course come to the function,” she said, attempting to bring Major Fallon back into the conversation. “It should be nice for a change to relax and enjoy the company of the young ladies here. Don’t you agree?”
“I imagine the possibilities are endless this time of year.” Seemingly amused, his gaze met Brianna’s over Lady Bess’s head. “If you’ll both excuse me, I need to prepare for my trip to Alexandra in the morn. Miss Donally…” His eyes touched hers with promise. “Lady Bess…”
After Major Fallon left, Lady Bess chatted a little longer before excusing herself and returning to the parlor. Brianna walked to the long window overlooking the drive and pulled back the heavy velvet draperies. Major Fallon had just mounted a spirited bay. Gripping the reins with a gloved hand, he swung the horse around and raised his gaze to the long window where she stood—as if he’d known that she’d be there—the small turn of his mouth his only concession to her presence. Brianna stared back, making no outward show that her pulse raced and that they had just agreed to become lovers.
Fallon was arrogant and annoying, and positively the most exciting man she’d ever met. Not that she hadn’t met enough men in her life.
But there was something about him that drew her into his flame. Heaven help her, when she stepped into his smoky gaze, she burned.
Michael slammed the door to his apartment and walked past the front room into his private chambers, where he pulled at the buttons on his uniform. Outside the window overlooking the narrow streets—similar to a thousand others that meandered through Cairo—noise rumbled through the walls. He pulled out the makings for a cigarette from a drawer, dipped beneath the arched doorway into his officeand opened the glass doors in the back. Still working his hands around the tobacco, he leaned a hip against the iron rail. Donally’s marble palace—as he termed the luxury—sat across the narrow lake. Michael had spent every day at dawn the past few weeks watching the sun rise over that house. Sitting amidst a garden paradise on a jut of well-protected land, the residence once belonged to a powerful Mogul bey.
Michael had been astonished that Donally had come to his defense against Omar, which rendered his current circumstances a sudden dilemma. He was unused to facing his conscience, or waging war on his lust. Both were usually manageable. The problem now was that he liked the entire family, down to the retinue of loyal servants. There was something refreshing and intriguing about a family willing to defy the mores of the time and stand outside the protected club and sport society that made up Cairo’s elite. Nor had he ever met anyone who embodied romantic fantasy with courage and a complete disregard for prudence as Brianna Donally managed to do with a single glance of her tilted-blue eyes.
He wanted to
Or maybe they’d been there the whole time and she’d not noticed. The thought made her realize how careless she was.
“I wanted to tell you that you received a letter from England,” Lady Bess said. “I don’t know why it was sent to the consulate. I forwarded it to your office this morning.”
“Thank you.”
“Will you be attending the picnic next week at the palace?”
“If I’m back in town.”
His deep words fell over Brianna. She turned to look at him.
“Of course,” Lady Bess said. “I had forgotten. You’re escorting our dear Mrs. Pritchards to Alexandria tomorrow. Such a terrible tragedy.” Lady Bess’s blue eyes fell on Brianna with discreet curiosity. “Miss Donally,” she said. “I see that Mr. Cross left.”
“He had to get back to the museum.”
Lady Bess smiled up at Major Fallon. “If you wish to find anything in Cairo, ask Mr. Cross. He and my husband share a passion for antiquities and good wine. You will of course come to the function,” she said, attempting to bring Major Fallon back into the conversation. “It should be nice for a change to relax and enjoy the company of the young ladies here. Don’t you agree?”
“I imagine the possibilities are endless this time of year.” Seemingly amused, his gaze met Brianna’s over Lady Bess’s head. “If you’ll both excuse me, I need to prepare for my trip to Alexandra in the morn. Miss Donally…” His eyes touched hers with promise. “Lady Bess…”
After Major Fallon left, Lady Bess chatted a little longer before excusing herself and returning to the parlor. Brianna walked to the long window overlooking the drive and pulled back the heavy velvet draperies. Major Fallon had just mounted a spirited bay. Gripping the reins with a gloved hand, he swung the horse around and raised his gaze to the long window where she stood—as if he’d known that she’d be there—the small turn of his mouth his only concession to her presence. Brianna stared back, making no outward show that her pulse raced and that they had just agreed to become lovers.
Fallon was arrogant and annoying, and positively the most exciting man she’d ever met. Not that she hadn’t met enough men in her life.
But there was something about him that drew her into his flame. Heaven help her, when she stepped into his smoky gaze, she burned.
Michael slammed the door to his apartment and walked past the front room into his private chambers, where he pulled at the buttons on his uniform. Outside the window overlooking the narrow streets—similar to a thousand others that meandered through Cairo—noise rumbled through the walls. He pulled out the makings for a cigarette from a drawer, dipped beneath the arched doorway into his officeand opened the glass doors in the back. Still working his hands around the tobacco, he leaned a hip against the iron rail. Donally’s marble palace—as he termed the luxury—sat across the narrow lake. Michael had spent every day at dawn the past few weeks watching the sun rise over that house. Sitting amidst a garden paradise on a jut of well-protected land, the residence once belonged to a powerful Mogul bey.
Michael had been astonished that Donally had come to his defense against Omar, which rendered his current circumstances a sudden dilemma. He was unused to facing his conscience, or waging war on his lust. Both were usually manageable. The problem now was that he liked the entire family, down to the retinue of loyal servants. There was something refreshing and intriguing about a family willing to defy the mores of the time and stand outside the protected club and sport society that made up Cairo’s elite. Nor had he ever met anyone who embodied romantic fantasy with courage and a complete disregard for prudence as Brianna Donally managed to do with a single glance of her tilted-blue eyes.
He wanted to
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