Free Desert Song (DeWinter's Song 3) by Constance O'Banyon Page A
Authors: Constance O'Banyon
the Egyptian, knowing he was not being truthful now. His speech and manner of dress were not in keeping with a son of a tailor. And a man of humble background did not go all the way to England to attend Oxford.
Khaldun touched his forehead and bowed. "Sleep well, my new friend. Allah ye'tik, may God go with you in your search for your father."
"May God help us both," Michael said with growing weariness.
After Khaldun departed, Michael closed his eyes. He had been foolhardy tonight. If he had been killed, who would have continued the search for his father?
Outside Michael's cabin, hostile eyes peered out of the shadows, watching his door. After hearing someone approaching, the man left hastily to be swallowed up by the night.
Since the night Michael had saved Khaldun's life, the Egyptian avoided him when they would chance to meet. One morning, Michael awoke to find that a note had been shoved under his door. It was from Khaldun.
Lord Michael,
I have reason to believe I am being watched, although I cannot say why. I know that my cabin has been searched. So for your safety, I will continue to pretend we do not know each other. Do not think I have forgotten that you saved my life. We shall surely meet again, and I will come to you if you ever need me.
The note was unsigned. Michael still wondered why anyone would go to so much trouble to kill Khaldun. His instinct told him there was more to the Egyptian than he would have people believe. But then Michael also had his secrets, and like Khaldun, he might have his enemies.
At that moment, there was a knock on the door and Michael opened it to find the first mate standing there with his hat tucked under his arm. "Begging your pardon, m'lord. The captain wondered if you would do him the honor of dining with him tonight. All the passengers are to be included in the invitation."
Michael had been having his meals brought to his cabin because he didn't want anyone to notice that he'd been injured. Now he could at least move the arm without too much pain. "Inform the captain I shall be glad to dine with him."
Thus far, there had been no inquiry about the two men who had jumped overboard. Michael was sure that the captain was beginning to wonder what had happened to them. He suspected that everyone at dinner tonight would be questioned about the missing Egyptians.
He would keep Khaldun's secret because he didn't want to be entangled in a web of intrigue.
Mallory parted her hair down the middle and arranged it in the French finger curls that were so in vogue. She slipped into a powder blue satin gown with bows on the sleeves and all about the hem. When the seamstress had made this gown, Mallory hadn't liked it, and she still didn't. Poor Cousin Phoebe could not have known it was shamelessly out of style.
Mallory lifted her hand mirror and stared at her image. Oh, well, there was nothing she could do about her appearance. She might be considered a beauty in the country, among the locals, but to a man like Lord Michael, who was accustomed to polished beauties, she would seem plain.
On a whim, Mallory quickly removed all the ribbons that adorned the gown and added a small cluster of silk lilacs to her hair. The gown might appear simple, but at least it wasn't garish.
With a resigned sigh, she worked her hands into her wrist-length white gloves, hoping no one would notice they had been mended at the fingertips.
Chapter 8
The sea was rolling gently as Mallory and Mrs. Wickett were greeted by Captain Barim. He looked very distinguished in his blue uniform with gold trim and epaulets.
"Good evening, Lady Mallory. Nice to see you, Mrs. Wickett. So glad the two of you could join us this evening." He ushered them into the cabin where the table had been laid with a white tablecloth and sparkling silver and china.
He presented them to his officers and then turned toward the banker. "Lady Mallory, may I present you to Mr. Fenton?"
Mallory acknowledged the introduction with a smile.
Khaldun touched his forehead and bowed. "Sleep well, my new friend. Allah ye'tik, may God go with you in your search for your father."
"May God help us both," Michael said with growing weariness.
After Khaldun departed, Michael closed his eyes. He had been foolhardy tonight. If he had been killed, who would have continued the search for his father?
Outside Michael's cabin, hostile eyes peered out of the shadows, watching his door. After hearing someone approaching, the man left hastily to be swallowed up by the night.
Since the night Michael had saved Khaldun's life, the Egyptian avoided him when they would chance to meet. One morning, Michael awoke to find that a note had been shoved under his door. It was from Khaldun.
Lord Michael,
I have reason to believe I am being watched, although I cannot say why. I know that my cabin has been searched. So for your safety, I will continue to pretend we do not know each other. Do not think I have forgotten that you saved my life. We shall surely meet again, and I will come to you if you ever need me.
The note was unsigned. Michael still wondered why anyone would go to so much trouble to kill Khaldun. His instinct told him there was more to the Egyptian than he would have people believe. But then Michael also had his secrets, and like Khaldun, he might have his enemies.
At that moment, there was a knock on the door and Michael opened it to find the first mate standing there with his hat tucked under his arm. "Begging your pardon, m'lord. The captain wondered if you would do him the honor of dining with him tonight. All the passengers are to be included in the invitation."
Michael had been having his meals brought to his cabin because he didn't want anyone to notice that he'd been injured. Now he could at least move the arm without too much pain. "Inform the captain I shall be glad to dine with him."
Thus far, there had been no inquiry about the two men who had jumped overboard. Michael was sure that the captain was beginning to wonder what had happened to them. He suspected that everyone at dinner tonight would be questioned about the missing Egyptians.
He would keep Khaldun's secret because he didn't want to be entangled in a web of intrigue.
Mallory parted her hair down the middle and arranged it in the French finger curls that were so in vogue. She slipped into a powder blue satin gown with bows on the sleeves and all about the hem. When the seamstress had made this gown, Mallory hadn't liked it, and she still didn't. Poor Cousin Phoebe could not have known it was shamelessly out of style.
Mallory lifted her hand mirror and stared at her image. Oh, well, there was nothing she could do about her appearance. She might be considered a beauty in the country, among the locals, but to a man like Lord Michael, who was accustomed to polished beauties, she would seem plain.
On a whim, Mallory quickly removed all the ribbons that adorned the gown and added a small cluster of silk lilacs to her hair. The gown might appear simple, but at least it wasn't garish.
With a resigned sigh, she worked her hands into her wrist-length white gloves, hoping no one would notice they had been mended at the fingertips.
Chapter 8
The sea was rolling gently as Mallory and Mrs. Wickett were greeted by Captain Barim. He looked very distinguished in his blue uniform with gold trim and epaulets.
"Good evening, Lady Mallory. Nice to see you, Mrs. Wickett. So glad the two of you could join us this evening." He ushered them into the cabin where the table had been laid with a white tablecloth and sparkling silver and china.
He presented them to his officers and then turned toward the banker. "Lady Mallory, may I present you to Mr. Fenton?"
Mallory acknowledged the introduction with a smile.
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