The Panther & the Pyramid (Khamsin Warriors of the Wind) by Bonnie Vanak Page A

suppose."
    Badra laughed, holding her enormous belly. "Stop it," she gasped. "Or I'm going to have the baby right here."
    Kenneth grinned. "Relax, my love. We were merely celebrating Graham's, um... little announcement. Brace yourself. My brother is getting married."
    Badra's laughter stopped short. Shock dawned in her beautiful eyes. She stared at Graham, who shifted uneasily.
    Badra knew his tortured past long before his brother ever did. When he'd been known as Rashid, Khamsin Warrior of the Wind, Graham had been assigned to protect her. They had forged a friendship sealed with the dark secrets of their individual pasts, and had both agreed never to marry. Kenneth's gentle, patient love had helped Badra change her mind. But both knew Graham's demons still tormented him, riding his mind as he once rode his mare, fast and hard across the sands.
    "M-marriage? To whom?" she asked, still staring.
    "Some beautiful damsel in undress," Kenneth said evenly. "She captured my brother's heart. Or another vital organ."
    Graham shot him a warning look.
    "Are you certain? Is she special? She'd have to be... Her voice trailed off. Badra stared as if Graham were a djinn, a desert spirit. Graham felt flushed with humiliation. Bloody hell, he knew what she thought. What woman would want him?
    Yet he had hoped for understanding from Badra. Without words he picked up the abandoned foils and their rubber tips, and carefully replaced them on the wall. Inside he felt like that little boy of long ago, aching and hurting. He forced a cool note to his voice as he studied the wall.
    "You needn't worry I'm marrying some common tart from the streets. Lady Jillian is the daughter of a well-known peer. She's quite suited to become my duchess." He whipped about and faced Badra with a defensive look.
    Badra put a hand on her immense belly, calmly regarding him. Once they had provided each other emotional support, had been friends and allies in the shared pain of their pasts. She'd been the only one he trusted. Still, he had withheld part of himself, never fully sharing. Now she was married to his brother, expecting his child, and had her own family. Life had changed so much.
    Kenneth discreetly moved to the other side of the large room, tidying a pile of lawn tennis rackets. Badra waddled closer to Graham. So tiny, so delicate-looking, she was barely as tall as his shoulder. But he knew looks were deceiving. Inside, she was strong as a fierce desert wind.
    "Rashid, talk to me about this. Don't shut me out. I sense you are carrying a heavy burden, and it has become much heavier these past months since we arrived in London."
    Her use of the Arabic name he'd been given by the al-Hajid made him cautious. He folded his arms over his chest. "What do you want, Badra?"
    Distress etched her face. "You've changed, Rashid. Once we were so close. Ever since we came to England, you've grown more distant every day. I hardly know my friend anymore. Why is that?"
    "You and Kenneth urged me to assume the title. Of course I had to change. I'm no longer Rashid. Those days are gone."
    "And our friendship, too? Once you would have done anything for me."
    His voice softened. "As I would continue to do, but you're married to Kenneth now. He comes first in your life, as it should be. As it will be for me when I marry my new bride."
    "Oh, Rashid." Badra's deep sigh indicated displeasure. "Your bride. Who is this woman? You never mentioned any woman before. How do you know she is the one for you?" She touched his chest gently. "How do you know she is the one to share your heart?"
    Graham rubbed his face. "Badra, what you have with Kenneth is special. My expectations of marriage are not so high."
    "Why not? Why shouldn't you expect to find a woman whom you can share every part of yourself with, who will fill that empty space inside you? No, don't tell me it's not there," she added as he started to protest. "I know, more so than anyone else, how empty that ache can make you feel. And