The Book Of Seven Delights by Betina Krahn

Author:Betina Krahn
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: 0
Published: 2011-03-08T04:42:18.841000+00:00

Chapter Nineteen

"The trader and his camels are gone," the tall, rail-thin Legionnaire known as Schuller reported as he flung himself over the crest of a tall dune and onto his belly beside his sergeant. "It is only Smith, the woman, and the servant."

Gaston grunted a laugh, baring teeth misshapen from decay.

"Take a lesson," he said to the men lying on their bellies along that slope, cradling their rifles across their arms. "These Berbers are fools for the clink of silver. Always eager to strike a deal… even if it means reneging on one they've already struck."

Garnering sly nods and looks of appreciation from his men, Gaston considered his next move carefully.

LaCroix's orders were to track the pair and to watch and wait until they had whatever it was the Merchant woman sought. But LaCroix was a fool. Anything Smith could do, a squad of Legionnaires could do better… including persuading a nubile young female to yield up the location of the valuables she hunted. The thought of "persuading" her repeatedly sent a shaft of heat through his loins.

Then his mind went back to the slippery nature of his prime quarry. Every minute Smith stayed alive was another minute Fate might decide to yank him from Gaston's grip yet again. And he did not intend to allow that to happen.

Apollo Smith was going to die today, whether he had the pleasure of killing him personally, or not.

"Check your lead," he ordered and took satisfaction in how quickly his men obeyed. "You have one target: the Englishman, Smith. I want the woman and the animals untouched. We will have use for them later."

Gaston sent half of his eight men around the rock outcropping in a flanking maneuver. When that contingent reached the ridge and began to climb, he motioned the rest over the peak of the dune with him. They kept silent as they started down toward the oasis, counting on the element of surprise. It was habit more than strategy, for at this range—and with odds of nine-to-one—the outcome was all but assured.

Abigail was draping her burnoose across the back of the saddle, and contemplating retying her turban… which seemed to have loosened as she slept on it. Who could have imagined that a turban would double so effectively as a pillow and save her from a serious crick in the—

Her gaze snagged on movement at the top of a large dune, not far away. Her eyes widened and for a fraction of a second she was struck dumb with horror. The movement took form… human… moving stealthily.

"L-Legionnaires!" Her shout set Smith crouching and pivoting—drawing his revolver.

"Take cover!" he thundered while ducking behind the nearest palm. He got off several shots that sent the Legionnaires diving onto their bellies, then glanced back at Abigail. Her head was still clearly visible among the horses. "Forget cover—get out of here!"

"Not without you!" She found her gun in her saddlebag and searched blindly with her fingers for the extra bullets she had emptied from her skirt pocket because she always managed to roll over on them in her sleep.

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