Читать книгу Desert Rogue - Erin Yorke - Страница 9

Perhaps her mistake had been trying to speak to all the women at once, Victoria considered. If she could prevail on one or two at a time, they might be more receptive to her urgings. She studied the more reserved females huddled by the far wall, their posture clearly revealing their anxiety. Cowed by their situation, they might be ready to consider any alternative, no matter how rash. Victoria straightened her spine, rose to her feet and began to move about the enclosure, her hesitant steps and frequent changes of direction mirroring the actions of many of the captives.

Nearing a mocha-skinned girl no more than fourteen, Victoria lingered to share a few whispered words of encouragement.

“You are helpless only if you believe it so,” she said, uttering the words softly, first in English and then French. A brief flicker of hope crossed the child’s face, and though she made no verbal response, her dark eyes studied Victoria carefully.

More confident, Victoria approached the next woman, speaking her message quietly and then continuing her erratic path about the pen to her next target. She was pleased a few women she’d addressed were standing a bit taller and watching her closely as she rested for a while before beginning yet another circuit of the area.

She had just started her fourth ramble when a guard came up, waving his arms and berating her, clearly agitated by her behavior.

“No talk, English! Walk or sit, but no talking together,” he ordered, scattering the women with his shouts.

“But most women talk when they are frightened. I do no harm.”

“Talk with me,” suggested the Sudanese, his fingers stroking her pale cheek. “I would soothe your nerves.”

“Isn’t your duty to protect the merchandise, not abuse it?” she demanded, slapping his hand away.

“Hunger and thirst will soften your mood before long,” warned the guard harshly. “I could make it easier for you.”

“The white woman is right,” challenged a voice from behind Victoria. “Go back to your post, dog. She does not need help from the likes of you.”

“Before Allah, I wish to see you proud wenches when your master’s whips have tamed you. Your cries will be far different then,” snorted the sentry, turning away in annoyance.

“Thank you,” murmured Victoria to the large woman who had spoken up on her behalf. She was surprised to see her defender was not one of those to whom she had whispered earlier.

“Do not thank me. Tell me what we can do to be free of here,” the stranger urged as others pressed in close upon them. “If you think it possible, maybe there is hope of escape.”

“Of course there is hope,” assured Victoria, daring to believe it for the first time since entering the pens. “My fiancé and half the British Army are on their way to the city this very minute. If we can only...”

* * *

Jed had reduced his bonds to a single strand of hemp that could be easily broken when he sensed a disturbance. Fearing that some watchful sentinel had seen him, he cautiously lifted his dark head. But there was no one glaring at him, nor could he discern any reason for the threatening curses that had been uttered. None of his guards appeared to think anything was amiss.

It was then that he heard a forceful but feminine voice coming from the other side of the wall that separated male from female slaves. The speaker was giving vent to frustrated anger, and Jed lifted an eyebrow in silent approval of the fiery woman who maintained enough spirit to revolt under such trying circumstances. His approbation quickly deteriorated to condemnation, however, when he realized the loud protest was being lodged in fluent English. These strident, haranguing tones, inciting others to riot, had to belong to Hayden Reed’s fiancée. By Zobeir’s account, she was the only white female currently imprisoned here.

Damnation, his fireworks hadn’t started yet, but this carping, insistent female had begun an explosion all her own.

If good old Vicky didn’t quiet down soon, she’d likely find herself chained to a post somewhere. Not that she didn’t deserve it for calling attention to herself just when he wanted her to be ignored, but such a punishment would make the escape he had planned all the more difficult.

Turning to watch three guards walk the perimeter of the walls, Jed hoped that Victoria Shaw would be more docile during the flight he had plotted across the desert. Their ride would be hot enough without some nagging woman making things more heated. But he shouldn’t have to worry, Jed assured himself. Victoria Shaw’s temperament was no doubt something he could handle. In his experience, women had always been only too happy to do his bidding.

Sidling over to the barrier between the two slave pens, Jed saw that he was in luck. Apparently it was chow time. Four more men had entered the area, one carrying sacks of fruit and the flat bread indigenous to the region, and another laboring under a large skin of water. The final two acted as additional guards.

Immediately the inmates began to move to the spot where the food and drink was being distributed, while the sentries on the walls turned both their attention and their rifles in that direction. Not one of them thought anything of the new man standing aloof in the shadows. In time, he would know thirst and hunger, even if misery dulled his appetite for the moment.

As the voices of the captives rose in plaintive pleas for sustenance, Jed prayed that Ali would be able to hear his signal above the din. The distraction made this moment seem the best time to move. Suddenly the first seven notes of a shrill rendition of “Yankee Doodle” rent the air. The guards shifted their weapons in Jed’s direction, and he pretended to tremble so pitifully that the Sudanese decided they must have been mistaken. One so cowardly would not cause a disturbance in the pens. The noise must have come from the market square on the other side of the wall. Thinking no more of it, they turned back to watch over the others clamoring for food and drink.

Jed remained expectantly prepared, the muscles of his arms tensed to pull apart the final strand of the rope hampering his hands. Surely, any second now, the fuses would burn down and the explosions would start, and he could scale the wall into the women’s pen, grab Victoria Shaw and get the hell out of Khartoum.

However, there were no detonations. Seconds all too silent dragged by with agonizing slowness. The tendons of Jed’s body began to protest their rigid readiness. Still, life in Khartoum went on with no interruptions.

“Damn you, Ali!” Jed muttered in a low, feral growl. “Is lighting a match beyond you? I swear, you’ll be sorry for making me wait like this.”

But for all Jed’s fuming, nothing happened, no booming blasts, no shattering sandstone—nothing. Could the Egyptian have been caught, Jed worried, or perhaps be too yellow to go through with their scheme now that the moment had arrived? He had no idea. All he knew was that if things didn’t start happening soon, he was going to have to take matters into his own hands.

Working alone at this point would greatly diminish his chances for success, yet Jed supposed he would have no choice, even if he didn’t particularly like the odds. He’d like it less if he were still incarcerated when Zobeir arrived to inspect Ali’s merchandise.

Determining the position of the guards, Jed debated as to whether he should attack one of them, grab the man’s rifle and shoot his way out, or wait for Zobeir, put a knife to the slaver’s throat and use him as a human shield to effect an escape. Either option was going to make it well-nigh impossible to get out of the pens with Victoria Shaw, but Jed was adamant. He was not going to leave her behind, though he might be tempted to do so if the woman didn’t shut her damn mouth, which still erupted every few minutes.

The sinewy American had just about made up his mind which plan he would follow when an ear-shattering noise rocked the compound, accompanied by the cracking and crumbling of a portion of the sandstone.

“It took you long enough,” he grumbled as the humanity inside the pens reacted to the unnatural occurrence.

The initial response of both riflemen and slaves had been cries of fear, but when those bound for servitude realized a doorway to freedom had appeared, there arose a joyous roar.

Chaos prevailed as frantic captives climbed over one another, the guards trying to stop their bid for liberty. Rifle shots rang out. Deadly sounds echoed off the high stone enclosure to mingle with the shouts of terror coming from the marketplace outside. Frightened livestock protested the uproar loudly as terrorized citizens ran, trying to escape danger. All the while, pitiful wails poured forth from the women still trapped in the females’ pen. But the entire cacophony was drowned out by the deep rumble of a second blast on the other side of the market, and the frenzied commotion escalated to a new level.

Men still attempting to shove their way out of the pens sought shelter from the shower of debris caused by a rapidly following third explosion. In the midst of it all, Jed broke the rope confining his hands and casually sauntered over to the gate separating him from the women. Made of stout wood and securely locked, the barrier resisted his efforts to force it open.

With a shrug of his shoulders and a careless smile that proclaimed he hadn’t really expected it to be that simple, Jed slipped the halter from around his neck and fashioned a short lariat. With reckless grace, he lassoed the spike atop the gate post, and easily scaled the wall.

When he reached the top, he momentarily sat astride the sandstone barrier until his keen eyes found the woman he was seeking, the small blonde in European dress huddled with the others.

Bellowing an order in Arabic and English for them to vacate the far corner of the pen before Ali lit the next fuse, he dropped inside and rushed to her side. Wrapping the woman in his arms, he threw himself on top of her, mindless of her protests. They both fell to the ground where he shielded her when the next explosion blew a hole in the facade that imprisoned the women.

“You must be Vicky,” he said with a devilish grin as he loosened his hold on the struggling form beneath him, and smiled into the face of a wildcat.

“It’s Victoria.” She grunted as she worked herself out from under the hard masculine body that had trapped her while her companions streamed out into the marketplace. She struggled for composure. When she found it, she coolly assessed the disheveled, unshaven stranger. Not liking the primitive air of the man returning her inspection so boldly, she added in her most cultured, condescending tones, “However, I suggest you call me Miss Shaw.”

Thoughts of how well suited the haughty Miss Shaw and Hayden Reed were ran through Jed’s mind as he pulled himself and the ungrateful woman upright.

“Listen, honey,” he drawled dangerously as he grabbed Victoria’s hand. “I don’t care if it’s Queen Victoria. We’re getting out of here now.”

“But I can’t leave,” Victoria stated in annoyance, pulling her fingers free from the large masculine ones that had captured them.

“You what?” Jed roared, his green eyes flashing in disbelief.

“Well, it’s simply impossible, of course,” Victoria told him in her most reasonable voice, instinctively taking a step backward from the glowering stranger.

“And just why is that?” Jed demanded. He closed the gap between them and brought his fierce face down close to hers.

“Surely you’ve heard the cannon fire,” Victoria asserted with as much dignity as she could muster under the man’s baleful stare. “The British army and my fiancé have come to rescue me. They’re attacking Khartoum right now. If I step out into the confusion, how will they ever find me? I’ll wait for Hayden right here, thank you. I’m not about to go running off with the likes of you.”

“Now, I’m unsure of how to break this to you,” Jed countered, his mocking voice making it plain that he was ready to throw her over his shoulder in order to leave. “But it’s me or nobody, lady. Hayden’s still in his plush office in Cairo.”

“You mean he sent you?” Victoria asked, aghast, her eyes branding him ruffian as they once more traveled over his rugged, unsavory appearance.

“No, he didn’t send me,” Jed mimicked, his voice colored by extreme exasperation. Catching himself, the American reverted to his natural husky tones and continued with forced civility. “He didn’t even have the courage to do that. I came on my own. Now, if you ever want to see that pompous ass again, Vicky, I suggest you move your sweet little posterior so we can get the devil out of here.”

Ali’s detonation of the final blast drowned out a shocked Victoria Shaw’s acerbic retort. She had no opportunity to repeat herself, however, as Jed’s patience with her was at an end.

“Run,” he ordered, grabbing the woman and pulling her toward the broken wall that promised them both a chance at freedom.

“Damn you, woman! I said run, not dawdle about watching everyone else escape. At this rate, we’ll both be damned to life as slaves, if they don’t shoot us first,” Jed raged over his shoulder as the guards fired into the women’s pen.

Without waiting for her to protest again, he shoved her in front of him, shielding her as they scrambled over the rubble of the wall. Their pace, however, was maddeningly slow as those ahead found it difficult to navigate the mounds of irregular stone blocking their way. Trapped in the smoke-laden air, unable to push forward, Jed found the next few minutes nerve-racking until finally they stood together in the shadows of the slave mart, catching their breath amid the turmoil.

Pandemonium was the order of the hour. Many of the escaping slaves had upended the tables along the perimeter of the square while the shopkeepers bellowed and tried to douse the small fires threatening their livelihood. Busily grabbing what goods they could carry off to start their new lives, fleeing captives shouted obscenities at those who would stop them and shoved their way to freedom. Then another ominous rumble sounded, the ground seemed to vibrate and a dark powdery haze drifted quickly over the slave quarter, providing temporary obscurity.

“This way, woman. Quickly, now, hurry,” Jed urged his companion forward as a blue gallabiya caught his eye and he swept it up in passing. The guards would be searching especially hard for the two European prisoners who would stand out readily in inner Khartoum. He and Victoria would be far safer if he could disguise her.

With a sudden jerk on her elbow, Jed pulled her into a narrow twist of the alley and whispered urgently, “Here, put this on.”

“Make up your mind. Put this on—or go quickly? Which is it?” cried Victoria angrily. Her eyes smarted from the soot in the air, her feet hurt from the stones that pierced her dainty slippers, and she still feared for her life. But, most of all, her heart ached with the possibility, however unlikely, that Hayden had placed her safety in the hands of this uncouth hooligan. How could her fiancé claim to love her and permit this scoundrel to come after her? “I am not moving another inch until you explain yourself.”

“Your hair and pale face will serve as a beacon for anyone searching for us,” he argued impatiently. By all the saints above, he was trying to save the woman’s hide, why was she squawking? “In this outfit, there is a chance you might be overlooked.”

“And you?”

“I’m brown enough from the sun to pass at a glance, and if they look closer than that, the game will be over, anyway.” Refusing to await her cooperation, he bunched up the flowing garment and dropped it over her head, thankfully muffling her complaints for the moment. “It’s rather long, but it’ll hide your skirts and those trim ankles I noticed earlier.”

“As if you haven’t better things to worry about,” muttered the blonde. “Never mind, give me your belt.”

“What?”

“If you expect me to move without tripping over my feet every few inches, I have to secure this somehow.”

Shouts sounded behind them in the alley, and rather than pursue their debate, Jed removed the leather strap and tied it about her waist, hiking the shapeless gown up and pulling the hood over her hair. An instant later he had grabbed her hand and they were running toward the city gates.

Dodging around the rubble in their path, he led Victoria forward, confident their route was the right one, if a little longer than he had remembered. It seemed to him they should have been at the gates by now, then he discarded the notion. It was just nerves that made him question himself.

Another roar sounded behind them somewhere as Jed pulled her along, but soon the voices of pursuit dropped away. Then, when Victoria doubted her ability to run another step, the gates were before them, and at last they were outside the city of Khartoum.

“Now what?” she gasped, leaning against the trunk of a mustard tree to catch her breath. “Where are the British troops?”

“What?” Jed couldn’t believe his ears. She continued to expect the army to rescue her.

“I’ll admit you got me out of the slave pens, and even out of the city, not that I couldn’t have escaped myself—”

“You do have an inflated opinion of yourself, Vicky, don’t you,” said the American, chuckling, impressed by her stamina. Most of the women he knew would have been weeping copiously, but her tongue was as venomous as ever. Did nothing shake her?

“I told you the name is Victoria, although you have yet to introduce yourself. For all I know you could be stealing me from Zobeir so your master can claim the fortune I would bring.”

“I am a man who serves no master but myself, unlike your pencil-pushing Hayden Reed.”

“He has a very responsible position, I’ll have you know. In fact, Hayden expects to receive a title in the near future,” bragged Victoria. Why it mattered, she didn’t know, but she could not tolerate this impudent male’s criticism of her fiancé. Hayden had a sound future ahead of him. Given his manner, this blowhard would undoubtedly end up in a jail cell, despite his physical charms, if he continued his explosive bent.

“A title to coincide with your marriage?” guessed Jed with a smirk. “Then I suppose Hayden will have it all. Too bad none of it can make him a man, willing to risk his life for the woman he loves.”

“That’s not true.”

“Vicky, I was with your dear Hayden when he received the kidnapper’s demands. First he protested that he couldn’t raise the ransom. Then, when he learned your mother had pledged the sum, his excuse was that he couldn’t be spared from his office—”

“But you don’t understand, Hayden is an important diplomat. He couldn’t risk—” Even as the words escaped her lips, Victoria realized that, in her heart, she didn’t really believe them. She should have been first in Hayden’s mind, not the money or his career. She should have been worth risking his own life, not that of some man for hire. Damn Hayden! Now she owed her life to this uncouth cad so ill-mannered he had yet to tell her his name. Well, damn him, too, she would not inquire what it was.

“I never asked you to save me. If you prefer to abandon me, go right ahead. I am certain I can get back to Cairo on my own.”

“As much as I would like to do just that, it isn’t in the cards. Hayden, for whatever his reasons, wants you back, and I will deliver you,” grumbled Jed, moving toward the Nile. “I must admit, though, having met you, I don’t understand why he would want you at all. It can’t be a love match—”

“And what would you know about love? With your lack of manners no woman could ever be attracted to you,” retorted Victoria. However, the words she spoke were not entirely true, she had to admit to herself as the stranger took her arm and urged her forward, ignoring her insults. Whether it was the danger of their situation or the uncommon comfort of masculine competence, she couldn’t decide, but for all his faults, her rescuer’s touch was definitely reassuring. That did not mean, however, she need speak to him!

Jed was so preoccupied with hurrying his charge through the ornate gardens surrounding the city that he took no notice of her sudden reticence. Thus far, things had proceeded well enough. All that was left was to rendezvous with the Egyptian, steal a falucca and sail off to freedom. Suddenly there beyond the monkey bread trees was the Nile. This would be the riskiest part of the trip. Jed pulled Victoria under the canopy of the obliging leaves.

“Shh!” he warned, covering her mouth with his large hand as she started to balk. “Once we’ve set sail, you can harangue me all you want, but now I need you quiet and cooperative or we’ll be back in those slave pens faster than you can cry Hayden Reed.”

For one brief, irrational moment, Victoria longed to do nothing other than bite down hard on his oppressive hand and bring her knee up with equal force into his groin. Who was he to order her about in such an infuriating manner? Hayden had never treated her so rudely. Then logic interfered and she realized that the arrogant male with her was the only one on whom she could rely, however uneasily. Leashing her anger, the weary blonde gave a quick nod of her head and he obligingly released her.

“Short of sleeping with you, I will do whatever you say to escape from here and eventually from you,” Victoria continued, her eyes sparkling angrily.

“Believe me, lady, the feeling is mutual, but until then you will have to watch my back while I cover yours. Understood?”

“I already said yes. What more do you want of me?”

Under other circumstances there might have been other responses, but now Jed merely gritted his teeth at her impertinence and scanned the almost deserted area in front of the river gates to the city. Spotting Ali, he felt a sudden surge of confidence as well as relief that the Cairene had escaped, too. His plan would succeed, despite their quarry’s lack of faith in him.

“See the tall Egyptian over there by the right gateway? That is Ali Sharouk, the other half of your rescue party,” Jed explained.

“I would not have thought you needed help,” she retorted, “or rather that you would admit you did.”

“He was not my idea, but since Ali was responsible for setting off those explosions that freed you, I wouldn’t question his presence or his efficiency,” rebuked Jed. “He and I will liberate a falucca while you wait here.”

“I will come with you now.”

“A woman down at the water will rouse attention we don’t want—”

“There doesn’t seem to be anyone here, and besides, in this getup, who would even know I’m a woman?” she protested.

“Don’t underestimate your charms, Vicky,” Jed advised dryly. “No Sudanese I’ve seen has a chest like yours, let alone the curvaceous wiggle in your walk.”

“You are disgusting to notice that at a time like this—”

“I never claimed to be a gentleman, honey.” Noting that Ali had left the gates and was headed for the open area where the faluccas were beached, Jed abandoned the argument.

“Follow me in three minutes,” he ordered as he started off, trusting she was clever enough to obey despite her complaints.

Left alone, Victoria stole a furtive glance around, pleased there was no one in the area to take an interest in her. Perhaps the explosions had drawn whoever might ordinarily linger along the river into the city to see what had occurred. Feeling a bit more reassured, Victoria started after her rescuers just as the muezzin sounded the call for midday prayers.

Seeing Ali begin to make the obligatory gesture of devotion, she was surprised when Jed did not follow suit. Wouldn’t he alert everyone to his foreign origins and criminal intentions? As she watched his movements, Victoria saw him stealthily approach the lone watchman prostrate in prayer.

Minutes later, the guard was still on the ground, but now unconscious and gagged as Ali and Jed lifted a falucca’s sail from the sand and righted the craft. They slid the boat far enough into the water to maintain its balance, still held in place by the anchor that rested ashore.

“Here, Vicky, hurry,” called her savior while Ali moved away and began slicing through the canvas sheeting of the other nearby faluccas. “It won’t be long before the call to prayer is over.”

“But the boat is in the water and there’s no dock—”

“Lift your skirts and wade out to the bow. You’ll only get wet to your calves,” he coaxed, fighting the temptation to drag her into the boat by her hair. “Come on, now. We haven’t much time.”

“Isn’t there another way?”

Then, from up above, near the gates, shots rang out. Victoria dove into the falucca as though propelled by some of Ali’s charges. Jed couldn’t help but chuckle as he ducked his own head to hack at the anchor ropes holding the craft near to the shore.

“Halt, you there! Leave my boat alone or I’ll have the soldier kill you with the next round,” threatened the angry voice.

Raising his head just enough to look over the side, Jed felt a sudden tightening in his gut. He and Victoria were not the ones being threatened with extinction; Ali was. A well-fed merchant stood on the upper path near the river gates, a soldier beside him with his rifle trained on the Egyptian huddled behind a falucca fifty yards away down the beach.

“Ali, make a run for it,” urged Jed in English, confident the Sudanese wouldn’t understand. The falucca was all set, and if he could angle it around, it might block the soldier’s view—

Crracck!

Ali had followed his advice too late, damn it! The Egyptian was facedown in the sand, thirty yards from the boat, and the Sudanese was already scrambling down the path toward him. For a moment Jed hesitated, weighing his responsibilities. The river was straining at the falucca, ready to start Victoria on her homebound journey, and she was his primary concern. Once he released the anchoring rope, they would be off with the current in minutes, safely away from here. Still...

“Here, take hold of this line and don’t let go,” he barked at her, leaping overboard.

Before she could argue, he was splashing through the water as the soldier raised his rifle to take aim at this new mark. Heart in her mouth, Victoria watched as her supposed protector dodged left and right then left again, running bent over to afford as small a target as possible. Reaching Ali’s unmoving body, he knelt briefly beside him while bullets spotted the sand around them.

“Damn that man!” she complained as the drag of the boat against the current increased. Her hands were raw from the effort to keep the falucca where it was, and she wasn’t certain she was doing all she could to protect herself. What if they began shooting at her?

While it was undoubtedly true she would be in jeopardy traveling alone on the Nile, would it be any more dangerous than lingering here? The temptation to release the rope grew stronger as her palms smarted all the more. It was not that she begrudged the Egyptian help, but what was taking so long? Any minute and she’d lose her grip on the hemp even if she wanted to hold on to it.

Lifting her head slightly, Victoria looked toward the city, panicking at the people crowding to watch the excitement. The shooting soldier was nowhere to be seen. Might he be sneaking up on her even now? Before she decided to abandon the line, there was a heavy thump forward and she turned anxiously, only to see Ali’s body dumped aboard and Jed pulling himself in after it.

“Let go of the rope and hand me the long pole,” he ordered, swinging the sail about. “Here, hold the canvas while I get us farther out into the current.”

Although she resented his lordly manner, she obeyed without complaint, permitting herself but a brief glance at the angry mob growing on the beach.

“Won’t they follow us?”

“Not if Ali did his job properly,” he answered curtly, propelling the falucca far enough from the beach that the occasional rifle shot was no longer a threat. “I’ll take the sail. Stow the pole and check on Ali. The bullet will have to stay in until we get ashore again, but see if the bleeding has stopped. Otherwise, find something to staunch the blood.”

Would this nightmare never end? wondered Victoria, making her way hesitantly to Ali’s side. As much as she hated the sight of blood, she couldn’t refuse to care for the man. The back of his shirt was already sticky with crimson, but there didn’t seem to be any more oozing. Quickly she rinsed her hand and dripped water on his forehead, but he didn’t waken.

Sighing at the unfairness of it all, the blonde looked back at the other man, the one who had been in the pens with her. As unmannered as he was, he had gone back for his partner. Could he be as bad as she had presumed him to be? She still didn’t know his name or his story. It was time for some answers, she decided abruptly, abandoning Ali to his continued unconsciousness.

“Look, your friend has passed out cold.”

“Passed out? Why?”

“How should I know? Maybe from shock or loss of blood or the way you so tenderly tossed him on board like a sack of potatoes.”

“Tenderly or not, I saved his life, lady, just like I saved yours!”

“So you keep reminding me, but who in heaven’s name, or should that be hell’s name, are you?”

“Just a man who had a choice of rotting in jail or coming to rescue you,” Jed snapped. “I made the wrong choice.”

“I think I did, too. I should have stayed in Khartoum.”

“Seeing that you are engaged to Reed, I understand your second thoughts—”

“It’s not Hayden who’s the problem. It’s you! You’re totally insufferable, ordering me about like—”

“Sorry if the service doesn’t suit you, but Jed Kincaid wasn’t raised to be any lady’s maid.”

“Service? What would you know about service? It is quite evident that you weren’t reared in a civilized home.”

“To my way of thinking, Kentucky is a hell of a lot more civilized than Egypt. We don’t steal women and sell them to the highest bidder.”

“You’re from America?” realized Victoria, shaking her head in sudden comprehension. “Well, that explains everything.”

With that, she made her way back to Ali, clearly preferring his company.

The sudden red-hot flare of his temper was familiar to Jed, but not the timing of its appearance. Ordinarily on a job, he prided himself in his ability to overlook irritants, concentrating on the task at hand and blocking out all else. Victoria Shaw, however, had become a burr under his saddle in less time than anyone but his youngest brother, Rory, could manage. It was all Jed could do to focus his attention on the falucca.

His life, as well as Ali’s, depended on his disregarding that irksome female, Jed told himself, sending a hateful glare in her direction. He must adhere to their plan, even though Ali was unable to assist him. For the moment, his own need to set Victoria Shaw down a notch or two would have to wait. Still, the pleasure that would eventually provide him would indeed be sweet, Jed promised himself, glancing over to where she sat. Very sweet, indeed.