Read Online Must Have Been The Moonlight by Melody Thomas - Free Book Online Page A

bent over the bay mare wore a black tunic fastened at the waist with a broad leather belt that carried a curved dagger. A tarboosh and turban covered his head. His face, tanned by the sun, contrasted with the stark blue of his eyes as he straightened and met Michael’s gaze over the saddle. The first thing Michael noticed, other than the gun pointed at his head, was that Donally’s eyes were the same summer blue as Brianna’s.
    A growth of black stubble had rendered Michael uncivilized, but Donally looked feral. “Fallon.” The single harsh word kept Michael’s hands from the revolver in his belt or the knife in his sash.
    They regarded each other, marking the passage of time since they’d last seen one another. When had it been? Last year at Captain Pritchards’s wedding? Donally swung intothe saddle of the Arab mare he’d saddled, his hands clenching the reins as he brought the horse around, the pistol still in his hand. “Move out of my way.”
    Michael had never heard an accent in Donally’s voice before. That he did so now told him the man was close to the edge and dangerous. “I’ve already sent men to Kharga,” Michael said. “Your wife and sister were not among those who might have been taken. They’re alive, Donally.”
    The hammer clicked. “So help me, Fallon. Doon’t bloody tempt me.”
    “They’re traveling with Abdul, a platoon of guards, a physician, and your servants, and are on their way to Cairo as we speak.”
    Something changed in Donally’s harsh features. “What are you talking about?” The gun in his hand wavered. He pulled it back, appeared etched from stone as he struggled for composure.
    “Your wife and sister weren’t in the camp when the attack came. They survived. And what they want most at this moment is to see you.”
     
    Brianna didn’t know how long she’d lain in the sand on her back, staring at the sky like a slug in hibernation. Her long dark braid remained hidden beneath her turban. She had yet to feel her feet and derriere. For eight days the caravan had wound over the molten sand like a slow-moving river—and for every one of those eight days, she had ridden Matilda, the racing camel from hell.
    Lying beside her, looking like some green-eyed jinn behind the cloth of her own turban, Alex groaned. “Tomorrow we should reach Cairo.”
    “What missies need is liniment and a soft bed.” Abdul chuckled, standing above them. “Of which neither are here.”
    “Thank you, Abdul. I shall add your advice to my tome of medical miracles.” Brianna struggled to her elbow. Will you unpack Lady Alexandra’s blankets and bring them to the tent?”
    Cooking fires dotted the landscape. Brianna’s stomach growled. That was one more thing she was going to have to do. Help Abdul cook, because she’d taken it upon herself to be useful. She collapsed back onto the sand. The early morning sky was hazy and unpleasant. “Do you think Major Fallon’s plan worked?” she asked. It was a topic they’d both avoided.
    “I think the major can take care of himself.” Alex stood and brushed the sand off her hands.
    “Christopher can too, my lady.” Brianna’s voice was quiet.
    “I know.” Alex’s worried gaze paused on Brianna, then abruptly she turned and stumbled through the sand up the hill. Brianna watched her. She turned away, digging her hand in the sand, her own frustration, which had been boiling all week, brought to the surface. Major Fallon was no unseasoned youth, as Stephan had been.
    He’d put his tongue in her mouth and shattered every virginal stereotype she’d ever held about men.
    Her whole body hummed.
    Brianna rarely dwelled on men. She had no divine drive to be anyone’s wife, no maternal calling pealing bells over her head. Being the youngest in a family of five domineering older brothers had given her the impetus to make her own way. She was her own woman.
    Yet never had she been subjected to such a powerful undercurrent of electricity as when he’d