himself to abandon such thoughts and to unclench his fists.
He had put his wild days behind him. He could no longer take with reckless abandon. He must think, consider, wait.
Dear God in heaven, he was hurting.
“Scream and I’ll slit your pretty throat from ear to ear.”
The voice was guttural, jarring Tess from sleep. Her eyes flew open, but she could see only a shadowy face above her in the darkness of the tent.
And the gleam of the steel of the dagger pressed to her throat!
She was going to die. It wasn’t fair. She didn’t want to die just as life was beginning to be so interesting.
“Where is he?”
He was talking about Galen, she realized with a wild surge of relief. Which meant he must not have killed Galen yet. The knife bit into her flesh, and she could feel warm liquid flow down her neck.
“Where?”
“Here!” A dark shape appeared suddenly behind her assailant, and she saw the glint of steel as a dagger was held to the man’s throat. “Get off her, Tamar.”
The man on top of Tess froze. “I can slit her throat before you can draw another breath, Galen.”
“Why bother? You wouldn’t live to enjoy your victory.”
The man hesitated, and then, incredibly, he threw back his head and laughed uproariously. “Ah, Galen, you always did have a persuasive tongue.” The dagger moved slowly away from Tess’s neck. “Put away your dagger and we’ll talk. It’s over.”
“I think my steel is more persuasive than my tongue,” Galen said dryly. “Throw away your knife.”
The man carelessly tossed the dagger aside.
“Now, get off her—slowly.”
“With great regret. I’ve always admired your taste in
kadines.”
The man swung off her. “Why don’t you light the lantern so I can get a better look at her?”
“You light the lamp. I want my hands free.”
“Distrustful bastard.” The man Galen had called Tamar moved toward the gleaming copper lantern hanging from the tent pole a few yards away. “I told you it was over.” A moment after the sound of flint on stone a flame flickered in the copper lantern.
Tess could see Tamar’s face now. He was young, no older than Galen, with a black beard, cropped close, flowing black hair, and dark eyes. He stood a little above average height, and his handsome features lit with a flashing smile as he turned to face Galen. “Very good, Galen. When I heard you had a woman with you, I was sure you’d be sleeping the sleep of a dead man tonight.”
Galen shrugged into his white robe, covering his nakedness, the dagger still in readiness in his hand. “You made so much noise cutting through the tent wall you’d have wakened the dead, Tamar.”
Tamar grimaced. “You were always the panther-footed one, not me.” He chuckled. “Do you remember the night you crept into the harem of that old—”
“That was the past.”
Tamar shook his head mournfully. “Ah, how I miss those days. What times we had.”
“Why are you here?”
Tamar raised his brows. “Why, I came to see my old friend Galen Ben Raschid.”
“Why?” Galen repeated.
Tamar shrugged. “I was curious.”
“And did you kill any of my men while you were making your way through the camp to satisfy your curiosity?”
Tamar shook his head. “No one got in my way.”
“I wonder if you’re lying.”
“Would I lie to you?”
“If it suited you.”
“True, but in this case it’s not necessary. I killed no one.” His glance turned to Tess. “My sentries told me she had red hair.” He studied her critically. “Wonderful skin, but she’s not your usual
kadine
, Galen. I think I must examine her more closely to see what drew you to her.”
Tess scrambled to a sitting position. “Galen, may I be told who this person is?”
“Her accent is strange,” Tamar noticed. “Have you been raiding outside Sedikhan?”
“The woman has just come from France. I found her in a café in Dinar.”
Startled, Tess stared at Galen.
“I should have known. You always did
He had put his wild days behind him. He could no longer take with reckless abandon. He must think, consider, wait.
Dear God in heaven, he was hurting.
“Scream and I’ll slit your pretty throat from ear to ear.”
The voice was guttural, jarring Tess from sleep. Her eyes flew open, but she could see only a shadowy face above her in the darkness of the tent.
And the gleam of the steel of the dagger pressed to her throat!
She was going to die. It wasn’t fair. She didn’t want to die just as life was beginning to be so interesting.
“Where is he?”
He was talking about Galen, she realized with a wild surge of relief. Which meant he must not have killed Galen yet. The knife bit into her flesh, and she could feel warm liquid flow down her neck.
“Where?”
“Here!” A dark shape appeared suddenly behind her assailant, and she saw the glint of steel as a dagger was held to the man’s throat. “Get off her, Tamar.”
The man on top of Tess froze. “I can slit her throat before you can draw another breath, Galen.”
“Why bother? You wouldn’t live to enjoy your victory.”
The man hesitated, and then, incredibly, he threw back his head and laughed uproariously. “Ah, Galen, you always did have a persuasive tongue.” The dagger moved slowly away from Tess’s neck. “Put away your dagger and we’ll talk. It’s over.”
“I think my steel is more persuasive than my tongue,” Galen said dryly. “Throw away your knife.”
The man carelessly tossed the dagger aside.
“Now, get off her—slowly.”
“With great regret. I’ve always admired your taste in
kadines.”
The man swung off her. “Why don’t you light the lantern so I can get a better look at her?”
“You light the lamp. I want my hands free.”
“Distrustful bastard.” The man Galen had called Tamar moved toward the gleaming copper lantern hanging from the tent pole a few yards away. “I told you it was over.” A moment after the sound of flint on stone a flame flickered in the copper lantern.
Tess could see Tamar’s face now. He was young, no older than Galen, with a black beard, cropped close, flowing black hair, and dark eyes. He stood a little above average height, and his handsome features lit with a flashing smile as he turned to face Galen. “Very good, Galen. When I heard you had a woman with you, I was sure you’d be sleeping the sleep of a dead man tonight.”
Galen shrugged into his white robe, covering his nakedness, the dagger still in readiness in his hand. “You made so much noise cutting through the tent wall you’d have wakened the dead, Tamar.”
Tamar grimaced. “You were always the panther-footed one, not me.” He chuckled. “Do you remember the night you crept into the harem of that old—”
“That was the past.”
Tamar shook his head mournfully. “Ah, how I miss those days. What times we had.”
“Why are you here?”
Tamar raised his brows. “Why, I came to see my old friend Galen Ben Raschid.”
“Why?” Galen repeated.
Tamar shrugged. “I was curious.”
“And did you kill any of my men while you were making your way through the camp to satisfy your curiosity?”
Tamar shook his head. “No one got in my way.”
“I wonder if you’re lying.”
“Would I lie to you?”
“If it suited you.”
“True, but in this case it’s not necessary. I killed no one.” His glance turned to Tess. “My sentries told me she had red hair.” He studied her critically. “Wonderful skin, but she’s not your usual
kadine
, Galen. I think I must examine her more closely to see what drew you to her.”
Tess scrambled to a sitting position. “Galen, may I be told who this person is?”
“Her accent is strange,” Tamar noticed. “Have you been raiding outside Sedikhan?”
“The woman has just come from France. I found her in a café in Dinar.”
Startled, Tess stared at Galen.
“I should have known. You always did
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