Chapter 9
One of his hired mercenaries was dead, the other wounded and his friend and confidant, Herman, had been murdered. He felt the heat of rage invade his face as he glanced around the cavern at the drawings and writings of the Medjai. So the tribe was a reality and they had struck with much force. But not as much force as he would bring upon them to repay the death of Herman.
They dragged the bodies of their fallen comrades out of the cave and dug a shallow grave. Oscar would never leave his good friend behind without a proper burial-it just wasn't civilized. Their helicopter, however, was on its way, and Oscar knew there was no time for long good-byes. With a simple word to his dead brethren, he returned to their truck and the historian to see when their helicopter would arrive.
The helo would arrive in five minutes, but with three men down, that left only himself, one mercenary, Jean Danton and his pilot, Erik, to search out the Fortress of Aten and seek revenge against the Medjai. They would need reinforcements-men they could trust. And it was then that he received a call from Jeffreys. Perhaps Jeffreys wasn't the most trustworthy man, but he had served Oscar well in Cairo for a sum and now that Jeffreys was in his own bind, Oscar figured he was their best shot at reinforcements. Jeffreys had men with him who were also seeking the Medjai and if they combined forces, perhaps they could each benefit the other.
****
The sounds of children's laughter filtered in through the window and a light breeze carried with it the smells of evening. Rose opened her eyes and stared at a white plaster ceiling, bare white walls and sparse furnishings. She had to concentrate to remember just where she was and it dawned on her that since leaving California, her surroundings had changed much too often.
So had her life changed. The events that had taken place in the Sahara felt almost surreal to her. The courageous Medjai warrior who had insisted she was fated to be his wife and the attack in the cave had to have been a nightmare. Then she remembered clearly the horrible feeling that had sunk into her bones when she'd shot that armed Egyptian and she realized it had been no nightmare as she'd hoped, but a dreaded reality. It was a reality, however, that had happened for a reason. She'd made a decision to take one life to save another, and as she again pictured the Medjai chief in her mind, bravely fighting off the European who was searching for the Fortress of Aten, Rose was happy she'd acted as she had.
Rose again heard the sounds of life, happy life, echoing into her room and she forced the memories of her ordeal in the desert out of her mind and focused on the here and now.
Just where was she again?
She concentrated for a long moment and realized she was in a small village nestled in the crook of a green river valley. She remembered the flat, brown adobe buildings built into the side of a small hill and the surprising lush greenery that was flourishing along the banks of the winding river. Yasmeen had told her it was their village and that they had been blessed to not only live along one of the tributaries to the Nile, but also over a large underground aquifer that provided their village with precious water. They were lucky, for water in North Africa was worth more than gold.
So, they had arrived in the village, and Yasmeen had brought Rose to this dwelling. Shortly after that, Rose had fallen into a deep sleep. She had no idea who's home she was in and where Ali might be found.
With the thought of finding Ali, Rose pushed out of the bed she'd been using and exited the room. She walked into a large living area with a dining room, living room and kitchen. It was inviting and furnished simply and the smell of baking bread caused her stomach to grumble.
"Good, you are awake," a female voice sang with enthusiasm.
Rose turned to see a middle aged woman standing in the doorway from another room. Her silver-streaked hair, that was obviously once black, was pulled back in a bun and she wore dark, loose-fitting pants and a light colored tunic-style shirt. The linen material of her clothing flowed with her as she moved and her bare feet slapped quietly as she walked on the cool cement floor that had only area rugs for covering.
"I am baking bread. Are you hungry?" the woman asked and Rose was shocked to find her English impeccable with only a slight accent.
"Uh.yes. I'm famished," Rose answered.
She followed behind the woman and sat at the rectangular table that had the look of hand craftsmanship. Rose still had no idea who this woman was and wanted to ask without sounding rude.
"If you don't mind me asking," Rose began, "who are you?"
The woman smiled a warm smile then turned back to her oven.
"I am Iman, Ali's mother," she explained. "I am sorry we were not properly introduced earlier. But when Yasmeen brought you here, I was out. She found me and told me you were here and that you were sleeping. I understand that you are a good friend of my son's from the States."
"Yes, Ali and I are good friends. Has he spoken of me?"
Iman nodded. "Several times in emails home. He seemed to enjoy your company in California."
At first Rose was warmed that Ali had spoken of her to his mother. After Iman's words sunk in, however, she was amazed that they had access to email out here in the middle of the Sahara.
"Email?" Rose inquired.
"Yes," the woman answered. "We have Internet access, electricity and even running water." Iman's words were laced with jest.
Feeling a bit embarrassed that she'd assumed this to be nothing more than a tiny village with more in common with the 1800s than the 2000s, Rose apologized. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to imply that this was some backwater village without any amenities."
"I understand, Rose," Iman assured her. "And I do not take offense. There are several small villages out this way that do not have what we have. We are lucky. But we are a village with one mind and one purpose and we take care of our own. You may not have all the comforts afforded in America, but you will not be lacking in necessities."
"I thank you for your kindness in taking me in," Rose said. "And believe me, after what I've been through this week, I am grateful for the comfort here."
Iman's eyes traveled over Rose's face with inquiry, then her dark eyes paused for a long while on the necklace Rose wore. For a moment, she seemed surprised. Then a sad, longing look captured her face and she glanced down to her hands and said quietly, "I see you wear the symbol of the Medjai chief. Tell me, Rose, how did you acquire that?"
"It's a long story. Didn't Yasmeen tell you about what happened to us on our way here?" Rose asked, again thinking of the bizarre events that had unfolded in the desert and her encounter with the mysterious warrior chief.
Iman stood quickly and moved to the oven to retrieve the bread. She kept her back to Rose and when she did chance to look back, her eyes continually darted to the necklace around Rose's neck.
"Yes, she told me. I know the Medjai rescued you from attackers. It just shocks me to see you wearing that necklace. Rumor is, a Medjai chief does not part with that symbol of his power unless he plans to return to claim his." Iman paused and a wistful look filled her face as she glanced back at Rose.
"To claim his what?" Rose questioned, hoping desperately that by accepting the necklace she hadn't inadvertently pledged herself to the Medjai chief.
"To claim his.property."
Rose shot to her feet and began fumbling with the clasp on the necklace to remove it from her neck as if it were searing her skin with pain.
"I'm not property!" she spat under her breath.
Iman quickly moved to her side and placed a hand on Rose's arm to halt her efforts.
"Perhaps property wasn't the correct term to use," Iman corrected. "Maybe prize is better?"
"Prize? Like something a person wins in a carnival game?" She frowned and sat with a huff.
"Leave it on, Rose," Iman insisted. "Your Medjai chief may be insulted if you remove it."
"He's not my anything. Besides, I'm here because of Ali, not the Medjai. Where is Ali, by the way?" With all the confusion of waking up in a new place once again, Rose had almost forgotten to inquire of Ali's whereabouts. Now that she was picturing him in her mind again, she ached to see him. He had left her in Cairo with so many unanswered questions. His words of love had seemed almost surreal, and she just wanted to see him again to determine if their relationship had truly blossomed beyond friendship as she hoped.
"He is not here," Iman answered.
"Not here? Where is he?" Rose felt her stomach drop like a lead weight with the disappointment.
"He is out in the desert." Iman then quickly added, "Searching for you."
****
Rose was standing in the morning light of the kitchen with her back to him, barefoot, wearing a pair of faded jeans and a plain red T-shirt. Ali smiled to himself at the sight and a taunt filled his mind. He knew better than to issue the taunt about her barefoot in his mother's kitchen, for after the time he'd spent with her in the Cave of Prophecies, he could predict her sarcastic, liberated retort. Just seeing her, however, looking cleaned of all desert grime and relaxed was enough of a reward. All teasing could wait until later.
He moved forward, slowly, using a stealth that few possessed. As he neared her, he allowed his eyes to wander over her backside and he again smiled to himself. His best friend, his future wife, filled out denim better than most.
"Is this right? Damn, I can't remember what she said to do next," Rose told herself quietly as she mixed ingredients in a bowl, still oblivious to Ali's presence. "Iman, I need." she began to call.
"You need what?" Ali asked from behind, as he poked her in the ribs playfully.
Rose jumped, nearly screamed and spun around so quickly that she collided with Ali's chest.
Stunned, she stood riveted to the floor staring wide-eyed at Ali. It seemed a lifetime since she'd glimpsed him and she was unable to speak, her mouth hanging open with her shock.
"Rose?" he questioned when she failed to react.
Rose wrung the dishcloth in her hands. Ali looked tired to her, but incredibly handsome. The desert must have enhanced his masculinity for suddenly her best friend was completely irresistible. He was freshly showered, his longish hair still damp as it hung to barely touch his shoulders. He was dressed in a soft gray T-shirt and white drawstring cotton pants, his feet bare, and never had Rose seen him so casual.
It had also been days since she'd seen him and a bit angry over that fact, Rose swung the dishcloth at him and snapped, "I'm mad at you! You sent me into the desert alone with Yasmeen. We were nearly kidnapped by my ex- fiancé and then some group of warriors nabbed us. I was almost killed by whackos looking for some ancient fortress, was forced to shoot a man and then I get here and you're nowhere to be seen!" By the time she finished her words, tears were brimming at her eyes.
With a wry smile, Ali placed a hand under Rose's chin and forced her gaze up to his.
"Rose, I'm sorry," he said sincerely.
It was all he had to say and Rose immediately forgave him. Then she was enveloped in his embrace, the soft cotton of his T-shirt against her cheek contrasting with the hardness of his chest beneath. Surely it was the most comforting hug she had ever felt.
The embrace didn't last as long as Rose would have liked. After a few moments, Ali pulled away, leaving his hands upon her shoulders and began, "Rose, I know you asked me."
Ali stopped himself. He had almost revealed that he'd been unable to locate Tony. Dropping that bomb right now would only send her into shock. It was obvious from the tired look on her face and the quick explosion of her words when she'd seen him that she was still recovering from all the events of late. Coming right out and telling her now that he was the Medjai chief that had taken her "captive" would only send her over the edge.
"I asked you what?" she prompted when his words failed.
Gathering his thoughts, Ali covered by saying, "I know you asked me in Cairo if you would be safe with Yasmeen. I thought you would be. I apologize."
"It wasn't Yasmeen's fault," Rose confessed. "In fact, Yasmeen was pretty tough. It was Victor's fault all this happened."
When Ali stared at her with a blank face, obviously because he had no idea who Victor was, Rose took him by the hand and began to pull him toward the table and chairs only a few feet away.
"I have a lot to explain," she stated. "You need to know about me, Ali."
Iman's form entering the kitchen from her bedroom halted any advance toward the table. Immediately, the mother smiled at her son and moved to embrace him. She hugged him fiercely, speaking fluently in their native tongue, then pulled away and placed her hands upon his face. Though Rose knew nothing of what Iman was saying, it was obvious from the body language she was welcoming Ali home.
"Ah, my boy is home again," Iman said in English as she released him and looked at Rose. "But for how long, hmmm?"
Ali visibly hesitated and Rose wondered just what Iman meant by her question.
"There is still much work to be done, mother," Ali finally answered. Then he glanced at Rose and added, "Lets not talk about work now. I am too glad that Rose is finally here with us."
To emphasize his words, he threw a friendly arm around Rose's shoulders and tugged her near.
"Tell me, mother, what do you think of my best friend?" Ali questioned.
Smiling sincerely, the lovely woman who'd aged so well placed a warm hand on Rose's cheek and said, "She is a beautiful creature, Ali. Especially since she was willing to help me make breakfast." Then Iman's hand dropped to the pendant around Rose's neck and she clasped the charm in her fingers. "However, I fear the Medjai chief also finds her to be a beautiful creature."
Ali waved off his mother's words with a hand.
"The Medjai are nothing to worry about," he insisted.
Remembering the stunning fierceness the Medjai warrior had possessed when he'd fought and the dauntlessness when he'd killed, Rose was positive Ali was wrong. She recalled the warrior's words to her before they had parted. He said he would be back and that she would have to choose her fate. And for a while, he had intrigued her. After all, he had both saved her life and battled with her in a test of wills. His ability and courage and skill were attractive. She'd even kissed him. But now that she was standing next to Ali again, she wondered how she could ever consider a man like the warrior when her best friend was all she needed.
"I wouldn't exactly say that," Rose countered.
"And neither would I," Iman agreed.
Ali sighed and then turned to look at the pendant upon Rose's neck. He was pleased she was still wearing it. The ancient charm suited her well. And he realized that once she went out into the village with it upon her neck, she would become the center of attention, for it meant the Medjai chief had chosen his bride.
"We need to talk, Ali," Rose insisted. "You need to know about this," she touched the necklace, "and about a lot of other things."
Quickly Iman moved to the wooden door of the house. "Please, talk, my son," she insisted and disappeared before he could halt her.
He realized he and Rose did need to talk. He had been telling himself the entire time they were together in the desert that he had hidden his identity because he wanted to wait until the right moment to explain things to her. That right moment, pictured in his mind, had included them alone in his village, with Rose rested and ready to hear everything.
This was that moment.
Ali, however, wasn't positive he was ready to tell her. He was exhausted. They had ridden all day yesterday and much of the night through the desert retracing the steps of the men looking for the Fortress of Aten and finding that they indeed had disappeared into air as was suspected. After finding the terrorists gone, Ali had quickly turned his men west again to the canyon hours away, where he'd left Rose's brother. When his men arrived there by nightfall, that canyon too was devoid of people, only the two disabled vehicles remained. From the evidence left in the sand, it appeared as if a helicopter had landed there too and Ali's fears compounded. His troubles and Rose's troubles had joined forces. He was positive, for both the terrorists and Victor's group had one common denominator and that was Jeffreys.
"Sure," Ali finally agreed, "we can talk, Rose."
Now was not the moment for Rose to hear about him, but he would listen to her, though he knew all that she was going to reveal.
She dragged him over to the couch, her fingers interlacing with his in that familiar fashion. He was positive she balked when she first felt his fingers laced with hers and he wondered how long he could continue hiding what he was from her. It had been a difficult act in the Cave of Prophecies. Each time he had spoken he was positive Rose would detect his voice. And every time his eyes landed upon her with a warmth he could not control, he was sure she would guess his identity. But the ruse had worked for the time they were together. Ali just wasn't sure it would work much longer.
So Ali sat willingly upon the couch next to Rose, listening to her recount how her mother had died when she was young and how her father and his inherited extortion business boomed throughout Chicago while she was growing up.
"He literally became the most powerful crime boss in the city," Rose said. "But he wasn't satisfied with just being rich and powerful. He wanted to be accepted by everyone. We moved to this old money, upper-crust neighborhood when I was a teen and my dad, as dangerous and as powerful as he was, he still needed for those neighbors to like him. He used me to get in with those people. My friends at school belonged to those families. I rode horses and played golf at the country club with the elite of Chicago society. But it bored me. When I told my dad I didn't want to be a part of that scene, he forced me to. I had no control over my life, Ali. None."
She paused and leaned back in the couch, expelling an exasperated breath.
"It was like I was born into this curse I could never escape." She turned her head to look at him. "Can you understand what that's like?"
She watched as his kind eyes faltered and he looked to the floor. "I guess I could imagine," he said.
He could imagine all too well. He may not have been born into a crime family, but he had been born into a role he was unable and unwilling to escape. He cherished his role as chief of his people, only sorry that succession had come at the expense of his father. But he remembered a time at one point in his life when he had been defiant and told his grandfather that he would refuse to take his role when the time came.
Ardeth, strong and dominating even in his old age, had insisted that Ali would not waver when his fate called him.
"You, Ali, are a Bay and that alone means you are strong and fearless. When your fate calls you, you will answer," Ardeth had told him one day. "You cannot see that now, but you will. This I know."
How Ali had loved his grandfather's wisdom and how he missed it now. Ardeth had been gone for some time now, having married much later in life, always saying humorously that the two world wars had given him little time for finding a wife. Because he had married so late in life, he had been a very old man when Ali was a child. Though his grandfather had lived to a ripe old age, he had not been in Ali's life long, so every word that Ardeth uttered that Ali could recall, he cherished greatly.
"This doesn't shock you, does it? I mean, I know I never told you about my father or my real life, and I'm sorry," Rose said, breaking into Ali's thoughts of the past. "But I had been hiding from him and Victor for so long.I was afraid to tell anyone. And when you came into my life, I just wanted to forget that anyone in Chicago even existed. I wanted to forget that Rosalinda San Giovani existed. I felt as if I truly had started over as Rose Sanchez with you at my side."
Ali leaned forward and sweetly kissed Rose on the forehead. He smiled at her and said, "It doesn't shock me, Rose. I always knew you were hiding something from me and that you would tell me when the time was right. We were close friends, yes, but not as close as we should have been. And I fear we both held back from each other."
Smiling back at him for his gentle words, Rose inquired, "And what did you hold back?"
Ali's mind urged him to tell her about the Medjai. His heart, however, feared the results. He silently chastised himself for his cowardliness. He could face the darkest of evils and the most fearsome of foes, but he couldn't explain to Rose the simple reality of his identity.
Instead of confessing his identity, he confessed his feelings. Moving forward slightly, his lips met hers and he kissed her briefly, just as he had in Cairo.
"That," he said. "That is what I hid from you, Rose. My feelings that were growing for you."
A lopsided grin grew upon her pink lips and mischievously she asked, "Could you show me again? I don't think I quite understand."
With his own grin, Ali leaned forward and kissed her again. This time, he lingered on her lips, keeping the caress slow and innocent. He was afraid to kiss her like he had in the cave. His attraction was too strong and he feared losing the ability to control his desires. If he kept their passions to a minimum, then he could ensure not pushing this new relationship too far, too fast. He would marry her, he was certain, but it was not going to happen today. He had time. Or so he thought.
As Ali pulled away from the second sweet kiss, Rose wanted to protest. She felt something very deep when he kissed her and it was much more than friendship. There was a bond between them and a growing passion. Even now, her lips tingled and her stomach fluttered with anticipation of more. Ali, however, had scooted back a good distance from her and his face held a curious expression.
"Tell me about Victor?" he suddenly insisted.
Rose shook her mind from the fog of passion it had slipped into and asked, "What?"
"Victor? You keep mentioning this Victor," Ali explained. "Tell me about him."
"Oh, Victor Galbadon. He's my ex-fiancé," she revealed and watched as Ali frowned. She was pleased that he was jealous, it evened the score over Yasmeen.
"And what kind of man is this Victor?" Ali asked with a tone laced with subtle anger.
"He's a complicated man. I used to admire him when I was younger. He'd worked his way up in my father's 'company' and gained his ultimate trust. Since my older brother, Tony, refused to have anything to do with handling dad's dirty business, father sort of adopted Victor as his successor. Once that happened and I was out of college and old enough, it seemed only natural that Victor and I would get together." Rose paused, taking a deep breath and trying to repress the fear that seeing Victor in Egypt had created in her soul. She was afraid of him, plain and simple. As strong as she'd grown these past five years, it still hadn't dissipated the fear she harbored toward him.
"And so, we started dating and eventually got engaged," Rose stated, trying to sound nonchalant about the past. "For a while, I thought I loved him, but as I matured I realized I could never love him. He was an evil man. He enjoyed the killing he did for my father. And he enjoyed control. Heaven forbid I try and speak my mind, or he would."
When Rose's words faltered, Ali gently asked, "He would what?"
Rose shook her head. She didn't want to continue for it brought back too many painful memories.
Ali reached out and grabbed Rose's chin, forcing her to look at him. His hold was firm but gentle and when her eyes connected with his she was shocked by the dark, commanding expression they held. For a brief second, she almost thought she was looking at the same eyes the Medjai warrior had possessed. Yet that was silly, for Ali could have nothing to do with the Medjai, it wasn't in his nature.
"Tell me, Rose," Ali insisted.
"He would promptly shut me up," Rose finally confessed.
She needed to explain no more, for it was obvious Ali understood. Muttering a string of curses under his breath that Rose could not decipher, he stood abruptly and paced across the living room.
"That cowardly bastard," Ali spat out. Visions of what he should have done to Victor when he'd had him in his grasp flitted through his mind and he berated himself for not killing the man when he'd had the chance.
"He is," Rose agreed, a bit shocked by Ali's reaction. "And he's here in Egypt. Somehow he found me here and held Yasmeen and I at gun point until the Medjai came swooping in."
Ali stood across the room from her, his face holding a grim expression, but saying nothing. As he continued to remain silent, Rose reached up and touched the small bump that still remained on her face from the attack in California and said, "Victor's responsible for that little incident in my apartment. Those were his men that were sent to get me."
"They are dead men now," Ali revealed.
Rose already knew this from conversations she'd held with Ali in Cairo, but she did not know of how they died or by whose hand.
Standing and catching Ali's eye, Rose questioned directly, "Did you kill those men in my apartment, Ali?"
He stood stoically by, his face giving nothing away.
"Ali? Did you?" Rose urged.
"I happened upon you in your apartment right after the first man hit you," Ali began to explain with little emotion. "I caught him off guard and was able to disarm him of his first weapon. However, he was armed with a second gun and when he turned it upon me." He allowed his explanation to drift off, for the ending was easy to figure.
Rose shut her eyes tightly, angry at herself for the position her life had forced Ali into, and didn't even want to hear what had come of the second man in her apartment. Ali had killed to defend her. It stunned her, for never in her wildest imagination would she have pictured Ali taking another life-even in self-defense.
She wanted to cry over the shame she felt. By hiding her past from him, she'd inadvertently put him in harms way. And he'd gallantly saved her. Suddenly, her humorous, soft-spoken friend was having more in common with the Medjai warrior than she could ever believe.
"I'm sorry, Ali," Rose said on a whisper. "God, I'm so sorry you were put in that position."
She felt his hands land on the bare skin of her upper arms. His grip was warm and firm and she could smell the fresh scent of soap lingering on his body. His nearness warmed her and she kept her eyes closed, hoping the feel of him close by would ease her guilty conscious.
"Look at me, my darling," he demanded softly.
When Rose shook her head, refusing to look at him, he shook her slightly and said with more force, "Look at me, Rose."
His demand again proved to her that he had changed upon reaching Egypt, and when she finally opened her eyes and stared at his resolute face, she was positive she had misjudged his strength these past few years. Ali was no simple computer geek like she'd always suspected. There was a hardness to his personality that was now apparent and she was sure it had been lurking beneath his cool surface for a long time. She'd just been too blind to see it until now.
"You were not responsible for what happened in your apartment," he insisted. "Victor was. Your father was. You were not. I killed that man to save myself and to save you. I do not hurt over that and neither should you."
Power, boldness and courage all oozed from every pour of his body. His olive skin seemed more radiant in the morning light and the determined glint in his expressive brown eyes washed over her giving her his strength. Rose was positive in that instant that Ali could defend her even against the mighty Medjai. She was thankful now for what had transpired in California, for if the events of the past week had never happened, she would still be blind to all that Ali was.
She smiled widely at him and moved her hands to touch his handsome face. He remained still, neither speaking nor moving, and allowed her to explore at free will. She touched his dark goatee and mustache, traced the outline of his full lips then tangled her fingers in that long, black hair she'd never touched before. It was slightly wavy and slipped through her fingers like fine silk.
Then her hands traveled to Ali's broad shoulders and moved down the hard, muscular plains of his chest. Yes, he was indeed physically strong and if she hadn't been so afraid to trust again, she would have no doubt discovered it long before today.
"Ali, why did we waste so much time?" Rose inquired with regret. "Why did I not truly see you until now?"
"We wasted nothing," Ali insisted. "Did you not cherish our friendship?"
She nodded and felt his long, lean hands cup her face.
"I too cherished our friendship. I am glad we took our time learning about each other. And now, we can take our time learning even more.intimate details," he added.
Rose laughed softly, then felt Ali tug her against his body. There was power in his embrace and she realized he'd done well at hiding just as much from her as she had from him.
He reached out and touched the charm upon her neck and asked, "Did you accept this as a gift, or as a promise?"
"I accepted it as a maybe," she answered. "I won't lie, there was something about that chief that intrigued me. Maybe even attracted me. The Medjai saved me.more than once. I was indebted to their chief."
"You are indebted to no one," he returned. "But the Medjai will no doubt return."
Rose sighed and pulled away from Ali. The incredible moment was gone with the mention of the Medjai.
"Yes, they will return. At least, their chief will," Rose agreed.
"So, you know this chief well?" Ali inquired with a hint of humor in his voice.
Rose glared at him. "Its not funny, Ali," she snapped just like she had every other time he had taunted her in America. Though their relationship had jumped several levels, they still fell easily into their comfortable friendship and Rose was thankful for that solid foundation.
Mischief filling her face, Rose threw a hand upon her hip and revealed, "You know, the Medjai chief did happen to think you were a big sissy for not claiming me sooner. He said you were weak."
Ali frowned at her apparent joy over those words. "Did he? Well, in that case, we could always go back to being just friends and we'll see if your desert warrior has any better luck at claiming you for himself."
Reaching out and poking him in the ribs causing him to jump, Rose said, "Is that so? Because he did make a pretty good offer; marriage and the chance to bear his heir to the throne of his tribe. What gal could resist that?"
Ali laughed, hearing the jest in her voice shine through again and he pulled her near.
"I can make you a better offer," he countered. "Friends for life, lovers forever and anything you wish for the future."
Rose smiled up at him, then accepted his offer with a long, sensuous kiss. It was a kiss filled with passion and promise and they held onto one another for several minutes, relishing in the feel of their new relationship and thankful to finally be together.
Ali then touched the Medjai charm again and said, "The Medjai are honorable people. Their chief will understand your decision. I am thankful he saved your life, but I will not part with you."
"I'm thankful he saved me too, Ali. And to tell you the truth, he reminded me much of you at times. Of course, it could have been all those fantastic stories he was telling me that had me imagining things." Rose tilted her head back to get a better view of Ali's face and asked, "Tell me, does the Fortress of Aten really exist?"
She wouldn't have been asking such a question if those men hadn't attacked them in the cave while inquiring about the fortress themselves. However, the European had confirmed the Medjai's story and Rose had to wonder if such a secret place existed that would drive men to fight to the death.
"I hear it does," Ali answered. "You will see that Egypt is a different place than America.just as I am a different person here than I was in America." He added the last phrase in the hopes that when he revealed his identity, the blow would be gentler. For now, he was satisfied knowing that Rose was attracted to him, not to the position of power he held with his people. He'd sensed her intrigue when he'd held her captive as chief, but he had also sensed her fear. Here, without any evidence of his warrior status, Rose was completely at ease and he knew in his heart that she cared for the man and not the warrior.
"Not different," Rose disagreed. "I'm just finally seeing you, that's the difference."
She hugged him fiercely for several minutes and Ali would have gladly remained in her arms had he not been so exhausted. He'd slept little the past few days and his last rest had been in the Cave of Prophecies with Rose more than twenty-four hours ago. He needed to sleep some, then meet with his men and the Council to determine their new course of action for protecting the Fortress of Aten. If he stayed with Rose much longer, he knew he would never sleep.
Pulling away reluctantly, Ali said, "Rose, I hate to do this to you now, but I really have to sleep. I've been out in the desert for." He stopped himself, wondering just what he was supposed to tell her about his desert trek.
"Yes, I know, you were out looking for Yasmeen and I when we didn't make it here. Your mother told me last night," Rose explained.
Ali sighed with relief, glad his mother had covered for him, but knowing she would do so for only a short time.
"Anyhow, I'm exhausted. I should go rest." He kissed her quickly on the cheek as she nodded her approval and turned for the front door.
"Why don't you just nap here?" Rose inquired from behind him.
He halted his exit and turned to look at her beautiful face, furrowed with confusion.
He smiled at her and explained, "I'd never get any rest here, my darling." When she chuckled at his answer, he added, "I am staying with a friend. I'll be by to see you later. Meanwhile, finish making your breakfast."
"You know I possess no domestic skills," she argued.
He laughed at her response because he knew it was quite true and exited out the door. His emotions were a mix of elation and worry. Rose was within his grasp now, but the group seeking the fortress was not. He prayed he had the fortitude to prevail as weariness settled upon his shoulders. He'd sleep on it and when he awoke, he was positive a fresh mind would produce a solution.
****
How long had she been standing there, staring at the closed door like an idiot, Rose wondered, as she heard a knock echo through the house. Her heart was racing faster than it had when she'd fought with the European in the cave and her head was swimming more than when Victor's man had knocked her silly. Knowing that Ali thought of her as more than a friend drove her blood racing in a mad frenzy through her veins and it took the caller another knock to finally shake Rose from her revere.
Finally forcing her feet to move forward, Rose opened the door hoping to see Ali again, but instead disappointed to find Yasmeen. Perhaps disappointed wasn't fair. Yasmeen, after all, had cared for Rose in Cairo and acted quite brave when Victor had attempted to abduct them. And they had spent a good five hours on horseback together yesterday riding to the village. With that in mind, Rose smiled a small smile for the woman and invited her in.
"Good morning, Yasmeen," Rose said.
"Good morning," the woman returned with a neutral tone. It wasn't exactly welcoming, but it was better than the cool receptions Yasmeen had dolled out before.
"I came to see how you were doing," Yasmeen immediately explained as she crossed the threshold briskly, pulling a beautiful pink scarf from her head that matched her cotton shirt.
"You came to see how I was doing?" Rose asked with amazement.
Yasmeen frowned and her full mouth pulled off the expression with perfection.
"Yes, I am still concerned about your concussion. You have had a hard few days and you could very well be suffering from the effects of your injury still," she said. "If you are feeling badly, we have a doctor here who could perhaps do more for you than me."
"There's a doctor out here?"
"You sound amazed," Yasmeen observed.
"I am. I'm as amazed by that as I am that Ali's mother gets email out here," Rose drawled.
Yasmeen laughed, proving to Rose that she did indeed posses a sense of humor and said, "Ah, Rose, you underestimate our quaint village! And I'd bet you would be surprised to know that we also have engineers here and bankers and linguists. Every member of our tribe knows English and most of my generation has been sent away for schooling abroad."
Rose gaped at Yasmeen because again she was shocked to learn more about this little desert village and its plentiful resources and also because she thought the word "tribe" was rather a strange choice of words. The Medjai warrior had often referred to his people as his "tribe" too and Rose wondered if it was simply the way one spoke in the desert.
"Really?" Rose asked back. "This little village in the middle of the Sahara is really that advanced?"
"In some ways, yes. In other ways, we are very traditional." When Rose stared at Yasmeen for a long while with a perplexed expression, the woman sighed with frustration and inquired, "Has Ali told you nothing about this place?"
"I've barely just seen him this morning and then he was off to sleep. We've talked some, but mostly I told him about me. He knows now, Yasmeen, about Victor and my father and everything in my past. So you needn't go tattle on me."
"I wouldn't have," Yasmeen declared. "Do you really trust me so little after what happened in the desert?"
Rose paced a half circle around the woman who was very similar in height, but quite different in personality, and studied her carefully.
"I don't know," Rose answered honestly. "We have done nothing but argue over Ali the entire time."
"We have. But that is only because I was caught off guard by his friendship with you," Yasmeen confessed.
"And if I told you that our friendship was developing into more, what would you say?" Rose probed.
"I would say that I was not entirely surprised." Yasmeen's eyes landed on the necklace around Rose's neck and she appeared shocked for a brief moment. Then her eyes seemed to settle with concern. "I would also ask if Ali knows about that?" Yasmeen pointed to the necklace.
Rose touched the charm and shrugged. "He knows. He says its no big deal."
"No big deal? A Medjai chief gives you his symbol of heritage and its no big deal?"
"Again, Yasmeen, I have to ask how you know so much about the Medjai."
Yasmeen shook her head and then blurted out, "And I have to ask how you profess to be such good friends with Ali and yet know so little about him."
"What does that mean?" Rose asked defensively.
Yasmeen looked as if she were itching to blurt something out, but she visibly closed her mouth tight and shook her head.
"All it means, is that your Medjai chief may think that necklace is a big deal," Yasmeen said. "He will come to reclaim you. It is a promise."
"Reclaim me?" Rose shot out. "When the Medjai gave this to me, he said I had a choice to make. I had to chose between him and Ali."
"Chose between them? Just what went on in that cave during the sandstorm?" Yasmeen asked, her face growing more distressed with every word.
"It's complicated," Rose explained. "On the one hand, what woman wouldn't find a dashing hero in black attractive? I mean, the warrior did save my life from the bad guys and from Victor. On the other hand, there was something dark and disturbing about his life. It was so dangerous and he was so serious about his mission. And the cave wall.oh, I forgot to tell you! There's a picture on this wall of a woman with blue eyes. The warrior said it was me and that it was already written that he and I would marry. Of course, its absurd and now that I'm out of that situation, I realize that I don't want any part of it. I know I want Ali. And if that upsets you, Yasmeen, I'm sorry, but that's just the way I feel."
When Rose was finished with her long-winded exposition of her adventures during the sandstorm, she saw that Yasmeen had found a seat on the couch. The woman's face was now paling and she looked completely stunned.
"Yasmeen? Did I say something wrong?" Rose asked.
"The Medjai chief said you're his prophesied wife?" Yasmeen asked slowly.
"That's what he said."
"Tell me, do you honestly love Ali?" she then inquired.
Rose smiled warmly as she again remembered the kisses and embraces they had shared only a half-hour prior. She nodded vigorously. She knew now that she loved him. She hadn't been exactly sure until she'd realized how horribly she'd missed him while she'd been in the desert. He was her dearest friend and now much more. How could she not love him.
"With all my heart," she confessed.
Quickly, Yasmeen sprung to her feet and hurried toward the door.
"Where are you going?" Rose inquired.
"I must speak with my father," Yasmeen said vaguely, leaving Rose wondering exactly what she meant by that as the door closed in her wake. ****
One of his hired mercenaries was dead, the other wounded and his friend and confidant, Herman, had been murdered. He felt the heat of rage invade his face as he glanced around the cavern at the drawings and writings of the Medjai. So the tribe was a reality and they had struck with much force. But not as much force as he would bring upon them to repay the death of Herman.
They dragged the bodies of their fallen comrades out of the cave and dug a shallow grave. Oscar would never leave his good friend behind without a proper burial-it just wasn't civilized. Their helicopter, however, was on its way, and Oscar knew there was no time for long good-byes. With a simple word to his dead brethren, he returned to their truck and the historian to see when their helicopter would arrive.
The helo would arrive in five minutes, but with three men down, that left only himself, one mercenary, Jean Danton and his pilot, Erik, to search out the Fortress of Aten and seek revenge against the Medjai. They would need reinforcements-men they could trust. And it was then that he received a call from Jeffreys. Perhaps Jeffreys wasn't the most trustworthy man, but he had served Oscar well in Cairo for a sum and now that Jeffreys was in his own bind, Oscar figured he was their best shot at reinforcements. Jeffreys had men with him who were also seeking the Medjai and if they combined forces, perhaps they could each benefit the other.
****
The sounds of children's laughter filtered in through the window and a light breeze carried with it the smells of evening. Rose opened her eyes and stared at a white plaster ceiling, bare white walls and sparse furnishings. She had to concentrate to remember just where she was and it dawned on her that since leaving California, her surroundings had changed much too often.
So had her life changed. The events that had taken place in the Sahara felt almost surreal to her. The courageous Medjai warrior who had insisted she was fated to be his wife and the attack in the cave had to have been a nightmare. Then she remembered clearly the horrible feeling that had sunk into her bones when she'd shot that armed Egyptian and she realized it had been no nightmare as she'd hoped, but a dreaded reality. It was a reality, however, that had happened for a reason. She'd made a decision to take one life to save another, and as she again pictured the Medjai chief in her mind, bravely fighting off the European who was searching for the Fortress of Aten, Rose was happy she'd acted as she had.
Rose again heard the sounds of life, happy life, echoing into her room and she forced the memories of her ordeal in the desert out of her mind and focused on the here and now.
Just where was she again?
She concentrated for a long moment and realized she was in a small village nestled in the crook of a green river valley. She remembered the flat, brown adobe buildings built into the side of a small hill and the surprising lush greenery that was flourishing along the banks of the winding river. Yasmeen had told her it was their village and that they had been blessed to not only live along one of the tributaries to the Nile, but also over a large underground aquifer that provided their village with precious water. They were lucky, for water in North Africa was worth more than gold.
So, they had arrived in the village, and Yasmeen had brought Rose to this dwelling. Shortly after that, Rose had fallen into a deep sleep. She had no idea who's home she was in and where Ali might be found.
With the thought of finding Ali, Rose pushed out of the bed she'd been using and exited the room. She walked into a large living area with a dining room, living room and kitchen. It was inviting and furnished simply and the smell of baking bread caused her stomach to grumble.
"Good, you are awake," a female voice sang with enthusiasm.
Rose turned to see a middle aged woman standing in the doorway from another room. Her silver-streaked hair, that was obviously once black, was pulled back in a bun and she wore dark, loose-fitting pants and a light colored tunic-style shirt. The linen material of her clothing flowed with her as she moved and her bare feet slapped quietly as she walked on the cool cement floor that had only area rugs for covering.
"I am baking bread. Are you hungry?" the woman asked and Rose was shocked to find her English impeccable with only a slight accent.
"Uh.yes. I'm famished," Rose answered.
She followed behind the woman and sat at the rectangular table that had the look of hand craftsmanship. Rose still had no idea who this woman was and wanted to ask without sounding rude.
"If you don't mind me asking," Rose began, "who are you?"
The woman smiled a warm smile then turned back to her oven.
"I am Iman, Ali's mother," she explained. "I am sorry we were not properly introduced earlier. But when Yasmeen brought you here, I was out. She found me and told me you were here and that you were sleeping. I understand that you are a good friend of my son's from the States."
"Yes, Ali and I are good friends. Has he spoken of me?"
Iman nodded. "Several times in emails home. He seemed to enjoy your company in California."
At first Rose was warmed that Ali had spoken of her to his mother. After Iman's words sunk in, however, she was amazed that they had access to email out here in the middle of the Sahara.
"Email?" Rose inquired.
"Yes," the woman answered. "We have Internet access, electricity and even running water." Iman's words were laced with jest.
Feeling a bit embarrassed that she'd assumed this to be nothing more than a tiny village with more in common with the 1800s than the 2000s, Rose apologized. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to imply that this was some backwater village without any amenities."
"I understand, Rose," Iman assured her. "And I do not take offense. There are several small villages out this way that do not have what we have. We are lucky. But we are a village with one mind and one purpose and we take care of our own. You may not have all the comforts afforded in America, but you will not be lacking in necessities."
"I thank you for your kindness in taking me in," Rose said. "And believe me, after what I've been through this week, I am grateful for the comfort here."
Iman's eyes traveled over Rose's face with inquiry, then her dark eyes paused for a long while on the necklace Rose wore. For a moment, she seemed surprised. Then a sad, longing look captured her face and she glanced down to her hands and said quietly, "I see you wear the symbol of the Medjai chief. Tell me, Rose, how did you acquire that?"
"It's a long story. Didn't Yasmeen tell you about what happened to us on our way here?" Rose asked, again thinking of the bizarre events that had unfolded in the desert and her encounter with the mysterious warrior chief.
Iman stood quickly and moved to the oven to retrieve the bread. She kept her back to Rose and when she did chance to look back, her eyes continually darted to the necklace around Rose's neck.
"Yes, she told me. I know the Medjai rescued you from attackers. It just shocks me to see you wearing that necklace. Rumor is, a Medjai chief does not part with that symbol of his power unless he plans to return to claim his." Iman paused and a wistful look filled her face as she glanced back at Rose.
"To claim his what?" Rose questioned, hoping desperately that by accepting the necklace she hadn't inadvertently pledged herself to the Medjai chief.
"To claim his.property."
Rose shot to her feet and began fumbling with the clasp on the necklace to remove it from her neck as if it were searing her skin with pain.
"I'm not property!" she spat under her breath.
Iman quickly moved to her side and placed a hand on Rose's arm to halt her efforts.
"Perhaps property wasn't the correct term to use," Iman corrected. "Maybe prize is better?"
"Prize? Like something a person wins in a carnival game?" She frowned and sat with a huff.
"Leave it on, Rose," Iman insisted. "Your Medjai chief may be insulted if you remove it."
"He's not my anything. Besides, I'm here because of Ali, not the Medjai. Where is Ali, by the way?" With all the confusion of waking up in a new place once again, Rose had almost forgotten to inquire of Ali's whereabouts. Now that she was picturing him in her mind again, she ached to see him. He had left her in Cairo with so many unanswered questions. His words of love had seemed almost surreal, and she just wanted to see him again to determine if their relationship had truly blossomed beyond friendship as she hoped.
"He is not here," Iman answered.
"Not here? Where is he?" Rose felt her stomach drop like a lead weight with the disappointment.
"He is out in the desert." Iman then quickly added, "Searching for you."
****
Rose was standing in the morning light of the kitchen with her back to him, barefoot, wearing a pair of faded jeans and a plain red T-shirt. Ali smiled to himself at the sight and a taunt filled his mind. He knew better than to issue the taunt about her barefoot in his mother's kitchen, for after the time he'd spent with her in the Cave of Prophecies, he could predict her sarcastic, liberated retort. Just seeing her, however, looking cleaned of all desert grime and relaxed was enough of a reward. All teasing could wait until later.
He moved forward, slowly, using a stealth that few possessed. As he neared her, he allowed his eyes to wander over her backside and he again smiled to himself. His best friend, his future wife, filled out denim better than most.
"Is this right? Damn, I can't remember what she said to do next," Rose told herself quietly as she mixed ingredients in a bowl, still oblivious to Ali's presence. "Iman, I need." she began to call.
"You need what?" Ali asked from behind, as he poked her in the ribs playfully.
Rose jumped, nearly screamed and spun around so quickly that she collided with Ali's chest.
Stunned, she stood riveted to the floor staring wide-eyed at Ali. It seemed a lifetime since she'd glimpsed him and she was unable to speak, her mouth hanging open with her shock.
"Rose?" he questioned when she failed to react.
Rose wrung the dishcloth in her hands. Ali looked tired to her, but incredibly handsome. The desert must have enhanced his masculinity for suddenly her best friend was completely irresistible. He was freshly showered, his longish hair still damp as it hung to barely touch his shoulders. He was dressed in a soft gray T-shirt and white drawstring cotton pants, his feet bare, and never had Rose seen him so casual.
It had also been days since she'd seen him and a bit angry over that fact, Rose swung the dishcloth at him and snapped, "I'm mad at you! You sent me into the desert alone with Yasmeen. We were nearly kidnapped by my ex- fiancé and then some group of warriors nabbed us. I was almost killed by whackos looking for some ancient fortress, was forced to shoot a man and then I get here and you're nowhere to be seen!" By the time she finished her words, tears were brimming at her eyes.
With a wry smile, Ali placed a hand under Rose's chin and forced her gaze up to his.
"Rose, I'm sorry," he said sincerely.
It was all he had to say and Rose immediately forgave him. Then she was enveloped in his embrace, the soft cotton of his T-shirt against her cheek contrasting with the hardness of his chest beneath. Surely it was the most comforting hug she had ever felt.
The embrace didn't last as long as Rose would have liked. After a few moments, Ali pulled away, leaving his hands upon her shoulders and began, "Rose, I know you asked me."
Ali stopped himself. He had almost revealed that he'd been unable to locate Tony. Dropping that bomb right now would only send her into shock. It was obvious from the tired look on her face and the quick explosion of her words when she'd seen him that she was still recovering from all the events of late. Coming right out and telling her now that he was the Medjai chief that had taken her "captive" would only send her over the edge.
"I asked you what?" she prompted when his words failed.
Gathering his thoughts, Ali covered by saying, "I know you asked me in Cairo if you would be safe with Yasmeen. I thought you would be. I apologize."
"It wasn't Yasmeen's fault," Rose confessed. "In fact, Yasmeen was pretty tough. It was Victor's fault all this happened."
When Ali stared at her with a blank face, obviously because he had no idea who Victor was, Rose took him by the hand and began to pull him toward the table and chairs only a few feet away.
"I have a lot to explain," she stated. "You need to know about me, Ali."
Iman's form entering the kitchen from her bedroom halted any advance toward the table. Immediately, the mother smiled at her son and moved to embrace him. She hugged him fiercely, speaking fluently in their native tongue, then pulled away and placed her hands upon his face. Though Rose knew nothing of what Iman was saying, it was obvious from the body language she was welcoming Ali home.
"Ah, my boy is home again," Iman said in English as she released him and looked at Rose. "But for how long, hmmm?"
Ali visibly hesitated and Rose wondered just what Iman meant by her question.
"There is still much work to be done, mother," Ali finally answered. Then he glanced at Rose and added, "Lets not talk about work now. I am too glad that Rose is finally here with us."
To emphasize his words, he threw a friendly arm around Rose's shoulders and tugged her near.
"Tell me, mother, what do you think of my best friend?" Ali questioned.
Smiling sincerely, the lovely woman who'd aged so well placed a warm hand on Rose's cheek and said, "She is a beautiful creature, Ali. Especially since she was willing to help me make breakfast." Then Iman's hand dropped to the pendant around Rose's neck and she clasped the charm in her fingers. "However, I fear the Medjai chief also finds her to be a beautiful creature."
Ali waved off his mother's words with a hand.
"The Medjai are nothing to worry about," he insisted.
Remembering the stunning fierceness the Medjai warrior had possessed when he'd fought and the dauntlessness when he'd killed, Rose was positive Ali was wrong. She recalled the warrior's words to her before they had parted. He said he would be back and that she would have to choose her fate. And for a while, he had intrigued her. After all, he had both saved her life and battled with her in a test of wills. His ability and courage and skill were attractive. She'd even kissed him. But now that she was standing next to Ali again, she wondered how she could ever consider a man like the warrior when her best friend was all she needed.
"I wouldn't exactly say that," Rose countered.
"And neither would I," Iman agreed.
Ali sighed and then turned to look at the pendant upon Rose's neck. He was pleased she was still wearing it. The ancient charm suited her well. And he realized that once she went out into the village with it upon her neck, she would become the center of attention, for it meant the Medjai chief had chosen his bride.
"We need to talk, Ali," Rose insisted. "You need to know about this," she touched the necklace, "and about a lot of other things."
Quickly Iman moved to the wooden door of the house. "Please, talk, my son," she insisted and disappeared before he could halt her.
He realized he and Rose did need to talk. He had been telling himself the entire time they were together in the desert that he had hidden his identity because he wanted to wait until the right moment to explain things to her. That right moment, pictured in his mind, had included them alone in his village, with Rose rested and ready to hear everything.
This was that moment.
Ali, however, wasn't positive he was ready to tell her. He was exhausted. They had ridden all day yesterday and much of the night through the desert retracing the steps of the men looking for the Fortress of Aten and finding that they indeed had disappeared into air as was suspected. After finding the terrorists gone, Ali had quickly turned his men west again to the canyon hours away, where he'd left Rose's brother. When his men arrived there by nightfall, that canyon too was devoid of people, only the two disabled vehicles remained. From the evidence left in the sand, it appeared as if a helicopter had landed there too and Ali's fears compounded. His troubles and Rose's troubles had joined forces. He was positive, for both the terrorists and Victor's group had one common denominator and that was Jeffreys.
"Sure," Ali finally agreed, "we can talk, Rose."
Now was not the moment for Rose to hear about him, but he would listen to her, though he knew all that she was going to reveal.
She dragged him over to the couch, her fingers interlacing with his in that familiar fashion. He was positive she balked when she first felt his fingers laced with hers and he wondered how long he could continue hiding what he was from her. It had been a difficult act in the Cave of Prophecies. Each time he had spoken he was positive Rose would detect his voice. And every time his eyes landed upon her with a warmth he could not control, he was sure she would guess his identity. But the ruse had worked for the time they were together. Ali just wasn't sure it would work much longer.
So Ali sat willingly upon the couch next to Rose, listening to her recount how her mother had died when she was young and how her father and his inherited extortion business boomed throughout Chicago while she was growing up.
"He literally became the most powerful crime boss in the city," Rose said. "But he wasn't satisfied with just being rich and powerful. He wanted to be accepted by everyone. We moved to this old money, upper-crust neighborhood when I was a teen and my dad, as dangerous and as powerful as he was, he still needed for those neighbors to like him. He used me to get in with those people. My friends at school belonged to those families. I rode horses and played golf at the country club with the elite of Chicago society. But it bored me. When I told my dad I didn't want to be a part of that scene, he forced me to. I had no control over my life, Ali. None."
She paused and leaned back in the couch, expelling an exasperated breath.
"It was like I was born into this curse I could never escape." She turned her head to look at him. "Can you understand what that's like?"
She watched as his kind eyes faltered and he looked to the floor. "I guess I could imagine," he said.
He could imagine all too well. He may not have been born into a crime family, but he had been born into a role he was unable and unwilling to escape. He cherished his role as chief of his people, only sorry that succession had come at the expense of his father. But he remembered a time at one point in his life when he had been defiant and told his grandfather that he would refuse to take his role when the time came.
Ardeth, strong and dominating even in his old age, had insisted that Ali would not waver when his fate called him.
"You, Ali, are a Bay and that alone means you are strong and fearless. When your fate calls you, you will answer," Ardeth had told him one day. "You cannot see that now, but you will. This I know."
How Ali had loved his grandfather's wisdom and how he missed it now. Ardeth had been gone for some time now, having married much later in life, always saying humorously that the two world wars had given him little time for finding a wife. Because he had married so late in life, he had been a very old man when Ali was a child. Though his grandfather had lived to a ripe old age, he had not been in Ali's life long, so every word that Ardeth uttered that Ali could recall, he cherished greatly.
"This doesn't shock you, does it? I mean, I know I never told you about my father or my real life, and I'm sorry," Rose said, breaking into Ali's thoughts of the past. "But I had been hiding from him and Victor for so long.I was afraid to tell anyone. And when you came into my life, I just wanted to forget that anyone in Chicago even existed. I wanted to forget that Rosalinda San Giovani existed. I felt as if I truly had started over as Rose Sanchez with you at my side."
Ali leaned forward and sweetly kissed Rose on the forehead. He smiled at her and said, "It doesn't shock me, Rose. I always knew you were hiding something from me and that you would tell me when the time was right. We were close friends, yes, but not as close as we should have been. And I fear we both held back from each other."
Smiling back at him for his gentle words, Rose inquired, "And what did you hold back?"
Ali's mind urged him to tell her about the Medjai. His heart, however, feared the results. He silently chastised himself for his cowardliness. He could face the darkest of evils and the most fearsome of foes, but he couldn't explain to Rose the simple reality of his identity.
Instead of confessing his identity, he confessed his feelings. Moving forward slightly, his lips met hers and he kissed her briefly, just as he had in Cairo.
"That," he said. "That is what I hid from you, Rose. My feelings that were growing for you."
A lopsided grin grew upon her pink lips and mischievously she asked, "Could you show me again? I don't think I quite understand."
With his own grin, Ali leaned forward and kissed her again. This time, he lingered on her lips, keeping the caress slow and innocent. He was afraid to kiss her like he had in the cave. His attraction was too strong and he feared losing the ability to control his desires. If he kept their passions to a minimum, then he could ensure not pushing this new relationship too far, too fast. He would marry her, he was certain, but it was not going to happen today. He had time. Or so he thought.
As Ali pulled away from the second sweet kiss, Rose wanted to protest. She felt something very deep when he kissed her and it was much more than friendship. There was a bond between them and a growing passion. Even now, her lips tingled and her stomach fluttered with anticipation of more. Ali, however, had scooted back a good distance from her and his face held a curious expression.
"Tell me about Victor?" he suddenly insisted.
Rose shook her mind from the fog of passion it had slipped into and asked, "What?"
"Victor? You keep mentioning this Victor," Ali explained. "Tell me about him."
"Oh, Victor Galbadon. He's my ex-fiancé," she revealed and watched as Ali frowned. She was pleased that he was jealous, it evened the score over Yasmeen.
"And what kind of man is this Victor?" Ali asked with a tone laced with subtle anger.
"He's a complicated man. I used to admire him when I was younger. He'd worked his way up in my father's 'company' and gained his ultimate trust. Since my older brother, Tony, refused to have anything to do with handling dad's dirty business, father sort of adopted Victor as his successor. Once that happened and I was out of college and old enough, it seemed only natural that Victor and I would get together." Rose paused, taking a deep breath and trying to repress the fear that seeing Victor in Egypt had created in her soul. She was afraid of him, plain and simple. As strong as she'd grown these past five years, it still hadn't dissipated the fear she harbored toward him.
"And so, we started dating and eventually got engaged," Rose stated, trying to sound nonchalant about the past. "For a while, I thought I loved him, but as I matured I realized I could never love him. He was an evil man. He enjoyed the killing he did for my father. And he enjoyed control. Heaven forbid I try and speak my mind, or he would."
When Rose's words faltered, Ali gently asked, "He would what?"
Rose shook her head. She didn't want to continue for it brought back too many painful memories.
Ali reached out and grabbed Rose's chin, forcing her to look at him. His hold was firm but gentle and when her eyes connected with his she was shocked by the dark, commanding expression they held. For a brief second, she almost thought she was looking at the same eyes the Medjai warrior had possessed. Yet that was silly, for Ali could have nothing to do with the Medjai, it wasn't in his nature.
"Tell me, Rose," Ali insisted.
"He would promptly shut me up," Rose finally confessed.
She needed to explain no more, for it was obvious Ali understood. Muttering a string of curses under his breath that Rose could not decipher, he stood abruptly and paced across the living room.
"That cowardly bastard," Ali spat out. Visions of what he should have done to Victor when he'd had him in his grasp flitted through his mind and he berated himself for not killing the man when he'd had the chance.
"He is," Rose agreed, a bit shocked by Ali's reaction. "And he's here in Egypt. Somehow he found me here and held Yasmeen and I at gun point until the Medjai came swooping in."
Ali stood across the room from her, his face holding a grim expression, but saying nothing. As he continued to remain silent, Rose reached up and touched the small bump that still remained on her face from the attack in California and said, "Victor's responsible for that little incident in my apartment. Those were his men that were sent to get me."
"They are dead men now," Ali revealed.
Rose already knew this from conversations she'd held with Ali in Cairo, but she did not know of how they died or by whose hand.
Standing and catching Ali's eye, Rose questioned directly, "Did you kill those men in my apartment, Ali?"
He stood stoically by, his face giving nothing away.
"Ali? Did you?" Rose urged.
"I happened upon you in your apartment right after the first man hit you," Ali began to explain with little emotion. "I caught him off guard and was able to disarm him of his first weapon. However, he was armed with a second gun and when he turned it upon me." He allowed his explanation to drift off, for the ending was easy to figure.
Rose shut her eyes tightly, angry at herself for the position her life had forced Ali into, and didn't even want to hear what had come of the second man in her apartment. Ali had killed to defend her. It stunned her, for never in her wildest imagination would she have pictured Ali taking another life-even in self-defense.
She wanted to cry over the shame she felt. By hiding her past from him, she'd inadvertently put him in harms way. And he'd gallantly saved her. Suddenly, her humorous, soft-spoken friend was having more in common with the Medjai warrior than she could ever believe.
"I'm sorry, Ali," Rose said on a whisper. "God, I'm so sorry you were put in that position."
She felt his hands land on the bare skin of her upper arms. His grip was warm and firm and she could smell the fresh scent of soap lingering on his body. His nearness warmed her and she kept her eyes closed, hoping the feel of him close by would ease her guilty conscious.
"Look at me, my darling," he demanded softly.
When Rose shook her head, refusing to look at him, he shook her slightly and said with more force, "Look at me, Rose."
His demand again proved to her that he had changed upon reaching Egypt, and when she finally opened her eyes and stared at his resolute face, she was positive she had misjudged his strength these past few years. Ali was no simple computer geek like she'd always suspected. There was a hardness to his personality that was now apparent and she was sure it had been lurking beneath his cool surface for a long time. She'd just been too blind to see it until now.
"You were not responsible for what happened in your apartment," he insisted. "Victor was. Your father was. You were not. I killed that man to save myself and to save you. I do not hurt over that and neither should you."
Power, boldness and courage all oozed from every pour of his body. His olive skin seemed more radiant in the morning light and the determined glint in his expressive brown eyes washed over her giving her his strength. Rose was positive in that instant that Ali could defend her even against the mighty Medjai. She was thankful now for what had transpired in California, for if the events of the past week had never happened, she would still be blind to all that Ali was.
She smiled widely at him and moved her hands to touch his handsome face. He remained still, neither speaking nor moving, and allowed her to explore at free will. She touched his dark goatee and mustache, traced the outline of his full lips then tangled her fingers in that long, black hair she'd never touched before. It was slightly wavy and slipped through her fingers like fine silk.
Then her hands traveled to Ali's broad shoulders and moved down the hard, muscular plains of his chest. Yes, he was indeed physically strong and if she hadn't been so afraid to trust again, she would have no doubt discovered it long before today.
"Ali, why did we waste so much time?" Rose inquired with regret. "Why did I not truly see you until now?"
"We wasted nothing," Ali insisted. "Did you not cherish our friendship?"
She nodded and felt his long, lean hands cup her face.
"I too cherished our friendship. I am glad we took our time learning about each other. And now, we can take our time learning even more.intimate details," he added.
Rose laughed softly, then felt Ali tug her against his body. There was power in his embrace and she realized he'd done well at hiding just as much from her as she had from him.
He reached out and touched the charm upon her neck and asked, "Did you accept this as a gift, or as a promise?"
"I accepted it as a maybe," she answered. "I won't lie, there was something about that chief that intrigued me. Maybe even attracted me. The Medjai saved me.more than once. I was indebted to their chief."
"You are indebted to no one," he returned. "But the Medjai will no doubt return."
Rose sighed and pulled away from Ali. The incredible moment was gone with the mention of the Medjai.
"Yes, they will return. At least, their chief will," Rose agreed.
"So, you know this chief well?" Ali inquired with a hint of humor in his voice.
Rose glared at him. "Its not funny, Ali," she snapped just like she had every other time he had taunted her in America. Though their relationship had jumped several levels, they still fell easily into their comfortable friendship and Rose was thankful for that solid foundation.
Mischief filling her face, Rose threw a hand upon her hip and revealed, "You know, the Medjai chief did happen to think you were a big sissy for not claiming me sooner. He said you were weak."
Ali frowned at her apparent joy over those words. "Did he? Well, in that case, we could always go back to being just friends and we'll see if your desert warrior has any better luck at claiming you for himself."
Reaching out and poking him in the ribs causing him to jump, Rose said, "Is that so? Because he did make a pretty good offer; marriage and the chance to bear his heir to the throne of his tribe. What gal could resist that?"
Ali laughed, hearing the jest in her voice shine through again and he pulled her near.
"I can make you a better offer," he countered. "Friends for life, lovers forever and anything you wish for the future."
Rose smiled up at him, then accepted his offer with a long, sensuous kiss. It was a kiss filled with passion and promise and they held onto one another for several minutes, relishing in the feel of their new relationship and thankful to finally be together.
Ali then touched the Medjai charm again and said, "The Medjai are honorable people. Their chief will understand your decision. I am thankful he saved your life, but I will not part with you."
"I'm thankful he saved me too, Ali. And to tell you the truth, he reminded me much of you at times. Of course, it could have been all those fantastic stories he was telling me that had me imagining things." Rose tilted her head back to get a better view of Ali's face and asked, "Tell me, does the Fortress of Aten really exist?"
She wouldn't have been asking such a question if those men hadn't attacked them in the cave while inquiring about the fortress themselves. However, the European had confirmed the Medjai's story and Rose had to wonder if such a secret place existed that would drive men to fight to the death.
"I hear it does," Ali answered. "You will see that Egypt is a different place than America.just as I am a different person here than I was in America." He added the last phrase in the hopes that when he revealed his identity, the blow would be gentler. For now, he was satisfied knowing that Rose was attracted to him, not to the position of power he held with his people. He'd sensed her intrigue when he'd held her captive as chief, but he had also sensed her fear. Here, without any evidence of his warrior status, Rose was completely at ease and he knew in his heart that she cared for the man and not the warrior.
"Not different," Rose disagreed. "I'm just finally seeing you, that's the difference."
She hugged him fiercely for several minutes and Ali would have gladly remained in her arms had he not been so exhausted. He'd slept little the past few days and his last rest had been in the Cave of Prophecies with Rose more than twenty-four hours ago. He needed to sleep some, then meet with his men and the Council to determine their new course of action for protecting the Fortress of Aten. If he stayed with Rose much longer, he knew he would never sleep.
Pulling away reluctantly, Ali said, "Rose, I hate to do this to you now, but I really have to sleep. I've been out in the desert for." He stopped himself, wondering just what he was supposed to tell her about his desert trek.
"Yes, I know, you were out looking for Yasmeen and I when we didn't make it here. Your mother told me last night," Rose explained.
Ali sighed with relief, glad his mother had covered for him, but knowing she would do so for only a short time.
"Anyhow, I'm exhausted. I should go rest." He kissed her quickly on the cheek as she nodded her approval and turned for the front door.
"Why don't you just nap here?" Rose inquired from behind him.
He halted his exit and turned to look at her beautiful face, furrowed with confusion.
He smiled at her and explained, "I'd never get any rest here, my darling." When she chuckled at his answer, he added, "I am staying with a friend. I'll be by to see you later. Meanwhile, finish making your breakfast."
"You know I possess no domestic skills," she argued.
He laughed at her response because he knew it was quite true and exited out the door. His emotions were a mix of elation and worry. Rose was within his grasp now, but the group seeking the fortress was not. He prayed he had the fortitude to prevail as weariness settled upon his shoulders. He'd sleep on it and when he awoke, he was positive a fresh mind would produce a solution.
****
How long had she been standing there, staring at the closed door like an idiot, Rose wondered, as she heard a knock echo through the house. Her heart was racing faster than it had when she'd fought with the European in the cave and her head was swimming more than when Victor's man had knocked her silly. Knowing that Ali thought of her as more than a friend drove her blood racing in a mad frenzy through her veins and it took the caller another knock to finally shake Rose from her revere.
Finally forcing her feet to move forward, Rose opened the door hoping to see Ali again, but instead disappointed to find Yasmeen. Perhaps disappointed wasn't fair. Yasmeen, after all, had cared for Rose in Cairo and acted quite brave when Victor had attempted to abduct them. And they had spent a good five hours on horseback together yesterday riding to the village. With that in mind, Rose smiled a small smile for the woman and invited her in.
"Good morning, Yasmeen," Rose said.
"Good morning," the woman returned with a neutral tone. It wasn't exactly welcoming, but it was better than the cool receptions Yasmeen had dolled out before.
"I came to see how you were doing," Yasmeen immediately explained as she crossed the threshold briskly, pulling a beautiful pink scarf from her head that matched her cotton shirt.
"You came to see how I was doing?" Rose asked with amazement.
Yasmeen frowned and her full mouth pulled off the expression with perfection.
"Yes, I am still concerned about your concussion. You have had a hard few days and you could very well be suffering from the effects of your injury still," she said. "If you are feeling badly, we have a doctor here who could perhaps do more for you than me."
"There's a doctor out here?"
"You sound amazed," Yasmeen observed.
"I am. I'm as amazed by that as I am that Ali's mother gets email out here," Rose drawled.
Yasmeen laughed, proving to Rose that she did indeed posses a sense of humor and said, "Ah, Rose, you underestimate our quaint village! And I'd bet you would be surprised to know that we also have engineers here and bankers and linguists. Every member of our tribe knows English and most of my generation has been sent away for schooling abroad."
Rose gaped at Yasmeen because again she was shocked to learn more about this little desert village and its plentiful resources and also because she thought the word "tribe" was rather a strange choice of words. The Medjai warrior had often referred to his people as his "tribe" too and Rose wondered if it was simply the way one spoke in the desert.
"Really?" Rose asked back. "This little village in the middle of the Sahara is really that advanced?"
"In some ways, yes. In other ways, we are very traditional." When Rose stared at Yasmeen for a long while with a perplexed expression, the woman sighed with frustration and inquired, "Has Ali told you nothing about this place?"
"I've barely just seen him this morning and then he was off to sleep. We've talked some, but mostly I told him about me. He knows now, Yasmeen, about Victor and my father and everything in my past. So you needn't go tattle on me."
"I wouldn't have," Yasmeen declared. "Do you really trust me so little after what happened in the desert?"
Rose paced a half circle around the woman who was very similar in height, but quite different in personality, and studied her carefully.
"I don't know," Rose answered honestly. "We have done nothing but argue over Ali the entire time."
"We have. But that is only because I was caught off guard by his friendship with you," Yasmeen confessed.
"And if I told you that our friendship was developing into more, what would you say?" Rose probed.
"I would say that I was not entirely surprised." Yasmeen's eyes landed on the necklace around Rose's neck and she appeared shocked for a brief moment. Then her eyes seemed to settle with concern. "I would also ask if Ali knows about that?" Yasmeen pointed to the necklace.
Rose touched the charm and shrugged. "He knows. He says its no big deal."
"No big deal? A Medjai chief gives you his symbol of heritage and its no big deal?"
"Again, Yasmeen, I have to ask how you know so much about the Medjai."
Yasmeen shook her head and then blurted out, "And I have to ask how you profess to be such good friends with Ali and yet know so little about him."
"What does that mean?" Rose asked defensively.
Yasmeen looked as if she were itching to blurt something out, but she visibly closed her mouth tight and shook her head.
"All it means, is that your Medjai chief may think that necklace is a big deal," Yasmeen said. "He will come to reclaim you. It is a promise."
"Reclaim me?" Rose shot out. "When the Medjai gave this to me, he said I had a choice to make. I had to chose between him and Ali."
"Chose between them? Just what went on in that cave during the sandstorm?" Yasmeen asked, her face growing more distressed with every word.
"It's complicated," Rose explained. "On the one hand, what woman wouldn't find a dashing hero in black attractive? I mean, the warrior did save my life from the bad guys and from Victor. On the other hand, there was something dark and disturbing about his life. It was so dangerous and he was so serious about his mission. And the cave wall.oh, I forgot to tell you! There's a picture on this wall of a woman with blue eyes. The warrior said it was me and that it was already written that he and I would marry. Of course, its absurd and now that I'm out of that situation, I realize that I don't want any part of it. I know I want Ali. And if that upsets you, Yasmeen, I'm sorry, but that's just the way I feel."
When Rose was finished with her long-winded exposition of her adventures during the sandstorm, she saw that Yasmeen had found a seat on the couch. The woman's face was now paling and she looked completely stunned.
"Yasmeen? Did I say something wrong?" Rose asked.
"The Medjai chief said you're his prophesied wife?" Yasmeen asked slowly.
"That's what he said."
"Tell me, do you honestly love Ali?" she then inquired.
Rose smiled warmly as she again remembered the kisses and embraces they had shared only a half-hour prior. She nodded vigorously. She knew now that she loved him. She hadn't been exactly sure until she'd realized how horribly she'd missed him while she'd been in the desert. He was her dearest friend and now much more. How could she not love him.
"With all my heart," she confessed.
Quickly, Yasmeen sprung to her feet and hurried toward the door.
"Where are you going?" Rose inquired.
"I must speak with my father," Yasmeen said vaguely, leaving Rose wondering exactly what she meant by that as the door closed in her wake. ****