Read Online Desert Song (DeWinter's Song 3) by Constance O'Banyon - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Constance O'Banyon
Tags: Fiction, Suspense, adventure, Romance, Historical, Adult, Action, Regency, Danger, 19th century, Egypt, ocean, father, sailing, sea voyage, DeWinter Family, Sheikhs, 1840's-50's, DESERT SONG, Lord DeWinter, Captors, Nursing Wounds, Desert Prison, Ship Passenger
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victim in a tight grip, while the other raised his arm, and in a flash, Michael saw light reflect off the blade of a knife.
Without stopping to think, Michael rushed forward to grab the attacker's arm, holding it in a firm grip. Moments passed as a life-and-death struggle ensued between the two of them—the assailant had turned his rage on Michael. The blade of the knife came dangerously close to Michael's throat, but he gained the advantage and thrust the Egyptian from him.
Suddenly both assailants turned on Michael. He managed to slip out of one man's grip, but the man with the knife lunged forward, burying the blade in the fleshy part of Michael's arm.
With renewed determination, Michael gripped the man's arm and slammed him into the bulwark. The man groaned in pain and crumpled to the deck.
Michael then turned to engage the other assailant, only to see the man move out of his reach. The second attacker jumped to his feet, and they both darted into the shadows.
Michael quickly dropped down to examine the injured man, who was having trouble catching his breath. "Are you hurt?" he asked.
The man answered him in a gasping voice. "They . . . tried to choke me ... I am but winded. I would now be dead if it were not for you. I owe you my life."
"Nonsense," Michael replied, reaching out his hand to assist the man to his feet. By now blood had soaked through Michael's shirt and he could feel the pain of his wound.
"You are injured," the Egyptian said with concern. "I will help you."
"It's but a scratch and can wait until we report this incident to the captain."
At that moment, a noise drew their attention. Michael looked toward the sound of hurrying footsteps and watched in disbelief as one of the attackers slipped over the railing and dropped into the sea! Horror registered in his mind as the second man also leaped into the dark waters.
"My God, they must be demented," Michael cried out as he ran to the rail of the ship. He could see nothing but inky blackness.
He turned to the other man, who had come up beside him. "It's too late to save them from drowning," Michael said grimly, "but we must inform the captain at once."
The Egyptian put his hand on Michael's arm. "I would ask that you not say anything about this. As you said, those men are now beyond help. I know that they were sent to slay me or die in the attempt. Since they failed, they had no recourse but to end their lives."
"What kind of men are they that they would deliberately drown themselves?"
The man merely shrugged. "For them, it was better to die than live with the disgrace they would have faced if they had returned and I still lived."
Michael was feeling lightheaded from his wound and staggered to rise. "Perhaps the wound is more serious than I thought."
"I will get the ship's doctor for you."
Michael waved him aside. "No, I'd sooner be in the hands of a butcher. I'll not have that man tend me. I've heard too many horror stories about seafaring doctors."
The Egyptian nodded in understanding. "Then perhaps you will allow me to assist you. I am quite capable of treating your wound."
Michael agreed. Already he had lost a lot of blood, and a feeling of weakness made him stumble. With the assistance of the Egyptian, they made it to his cabin before Michael collapsed on the bed.
The stranger removed Michael's coat and ripped the shirt sleeve. He was silent while he examined the wound. "It is deep, and it is a miracle his aim was not accurate. Allow me to go to my cabin and get my medical kit. I'll only be gone a short time."
Michael closed his eyes, trying not to think about the pain. He reached for one of his shirts and tied the sleeve around his arm in an attempt to stop the flow of blood.
Soon the Egyptian reappeared. With the expertise of a man who had treated injuries before, he cleansed the wound and applied some strange-smelling herbs. Deftly, he bandaged Michael's arm in clean white linen, then stood back, observing his handiwork with
Without stopping to think, Michael rushed forward to grab the attacker's arm, holding it in a firm grip. Moments passed as a life-and-death struggle ensued between the two of them—the assailant had turned his rage on Michael. The blade of the knife came dangerously close to Michael's throat, but he gained the advantage and thrust the Egyptian from him.
Suddenly both assailants turned on Michael. He managed to slip out of one man's grip, but the man with the knife lunged forward, burying the blade in the fleshy part of Michael's arm.
With renewed determination, Michael gripped the man's arm and slammed him into the bulwark. The man groaned in pain and crumpled to the deck.
Michael then turned to engage the other assailant, only to see the man move out of his reach. The second attacker jumped to his feet, and they both darted into the shadows.
Michael quickly dropped down to examine the injured man, who was having trouble catching his breath. "Are you hurt?" he asked.
The man answered him in a gasping voice. "They . . . tried to choke me ... I am but winded. I would now be dead if it were not for you. I owe you my life."
"Nonsense," Michael replied, reaching out his hand to assist the man to his feet. By now blood had soaked through Michael's shirt and he could feel the pain of his wound.
"You are injured," the Egyptian said with concern. "I will help you."
"It's but a scratch and can wait until we report this incident to the captain."
At that moment, a noise drew their attention. Michael looked toward the sound of hurrying footsteps and watched in disbelief as one of the attackers slipped over the railing and dropped into the sea! Horror registered in his mind as the second man also leaped into the dark waters.
"My God, they must be demented," Michael cried out as he ran to the rail of the ship. He could see nothing but inky blackness.
He turned to the other man, who had come up beside him. "It's too late to save them from drowning," Michael said grimly, "but we must inform the captain at once."
The Egyptian put his hand on Michael's arm. "I would ask that you not say anything about this. As you said, those men are now beyond help. I know that they were sent to slay me or die in the attempt. Since they failed, they had no recourse but to end their lives."
"What kind of men are they that they would deliberately drown themselves?"
The man merely shrugged. "For them, it was better to die than live with the disgrace they would have faced if they had returned and I still lived."
Michael was feeling lightheaded from his wound and staggered to rise. "Perhaps the wound is more serious than I thought."
"I will get the ship's doctor for you."
Michael waved him aside. "No, I'd sooner be in the hands of a butcher. I'll not have that man tend me. I've heard too many horror stories about seafaring doctors."
The Egyptian nodded in understanding. "Then perhaps you will allow me to assist you. I am quite capable of treating your wound."
Michael agreed. Already he had lost a lot of blood, and a feeling of weakness made him stumble. With the assistance of the Egyptian, they made it to his cabin before Michael collapsed on the bed.
The stranger removed Michael's coat and ripped the shirt sleeve. He was silent while he examined the wound. "It is deep, and it is a miracle his aim was not accurate. Allow me to go to my cabin and get my medical kit. I'll only be gone a short time."
Michael closed his eyes, trying not to think about the pain. He reached for one of his shirts and tied the sleeve around his arm in an attempt to stop the flow of blood.
Soon the Egyptian reappeared. With the expertise of a man who had treated injuries before, he cleansed the wound and applied some strange-smelling herbs. Deftly, he bandaged Michael's arm in clean white linen, then stood back, observing his handiwork with
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