Read Online Averill: Historical Romance (The Brocade Collection, Book 3) by Jackie Ivie - Free Book Online Page A

heat waves pulse across the sand. She waited.
    “ Did you sleep well? I should have explained sooner, I suppose. I was avoiding it. I also should have avoided the side-track to the oasis. It was madness. Making up lost time is our penance.”
    “It was a side-track?”  Averill moved her gaze back to him to ask it.
    He smiled. “The men are properly mystified, too. We’re expected at Apamea Palace. The arrangements were made, and I have my orders. I’m not at liberty to change them, even if I wished it. And it’s still some distance.”
    Averill watched him, finally realizing what he was saying . They weren’t stopping that night, either. “You’re apologizing for the haste?” she asked.
    “A Tennison never apologizes,” he replied, automatically.
    “No,” she murmured. “I suppose not.”  And especially not to a woman from the streets. It seemed Captain Tennison wanted distance between them just as much as she did. He was just using an oblique, stuffy, foreign way to go about it. Her lips twisted.
    “What is it?” he asked.
    Averill smiled in the same kind of way she ’d used to for Sen-Bib’s customers. “It was lovely to bathe at the oasis, Captain Tennison. If you went that way on my behalf, I thank you.”
    “It was dangerous, though . But I think you were aware of that.”
    Averill felt herself pale and would have given anything to stay the reaction . “You had enemies there?”
    “That’s not the sort of danger I meant.”
    She kept her gasp inside and was surprised at that bit of self-control. She wasn’t as successful at hiding the flush. She was afraid to guess his meaning. She didn’t dare contemplate that he might be suffering an emotion akin to what she was. The thought made her skin feel too tight and her chest heavier.    
    She kept her eyes on the camel’s neck in front of her, and waited for him to speak again .
    “We’ll be stopping later for a meal . It’s the best we can do. You’ll be able to keep your seat through the night?”
    “I have already proven that I can.”  She answered evenly and without one bit of inflection. She was very proud of that.
    “ Oh. Very good. Forgive the interruption, then.”
    He was already moving away, or she’d have apologiz ed for speaking as she had. Then, she was glad of his action. If he thought her devoid of feeling, all the better. She blinked at the moisture coating her eyes, and blamed the sand.
    He might have saved her from the dangers of a Cairo street, but he’d not saved her at all . Quite the opposite.
     

 
    CHAPTER SEVEN
     
    If Averill had thought herself sore the first day, it was due to naivety and inexperience. The saddle might have a horsehair padded seat, but it was digging into every blister she had, and felt like it was opening new ones with every sway of the camel. She’d given up finding a comfortable spot to sleep, and had simply endured a long, thought-filled night, while every bit of her body felt the loss of rest.
    They had reached a mountain range just after sunrise, and Averill had never seen such a thing . It mystified her why they ignored the trail winding into the trees, and seemed intent on following the arid land at the base. Perhaps the camels needed such footing. Who was she supposed to ask?
    She didn’t even try to attempt a painting . Leaning over the side to get the canvas would have been beyond her and her eyes felt grit-filled. Captain Tennison didn’t even call a halt as hard flat cakes were passed out for breakfast. She returned the favor, and turned aside every time he looked her way.
    But then she saw Apamea Palace and every bit of misery melted away. It was stunning. Beautiful. Jaw-dropping.
    E vening sun touched on pink-colored walls of an immense structure, bathed in the hues of sunset, and so richly designed, it looked like something from a dream. She couldn’t believe such bounty could exist in such a place. The foothills rose around it, enclosing it, and short, stunted trees