Only You Read Online Free Page B

out quickly enough.  “The Hotel Cairo.”
    “Very good, very good.  If you will please to follow me?”
    “Yes, certainly.”
    He started off, and she hastened after him, remaining very close so they weren’t separated.  Yet rapidly it became clear that—despite his claiming the entrance was nearby—it was much more of a distance than she’d predicted.
    They twisted and turned deeper into the bazaar.  The alleys were loud and crammed with people, animals, and merchandise.  After so many weeks at sea, the frantic activity made her dizzy.
    She reached for his coat, having to tug several times before he glanced back.
    “How much farther?” she asked.
    “Not far, not far.”
    “I’m very hot.”
    “Soon there.”
    He continued on, and she hesitated, then marched after him.  The crowd thinned, the booths ending, and an exit appeared, but the stone arches were nowhere in sight.
    They were deposited onto a deserted street, another alley really.  The hoards were left behind, and it was eerily quiet.  He motioned for her to walk to the right, but off in the other direction, she saw the stone arches. 
    She stopped, and he stopped too.
    “You’re heading the wrong way,” she told him.
    “No, no, I know this place.”
    “My cousin and porters are back there.”
    “No,” he said more sternly.  “You must come with me.”
    “I’m sorry, but I can’t.  Thank you for your assistance, but I can get there on my own.”
    Suddenly, he wasn’t quite so cordial or accommodating.  He smiled a smile that made her skin crawl.
    “You must be doing as I bid you.”
    “I don’t think so,” she firmly stated.
    “And I am thinking you will.”
    He clasped her arm and dashed off.  For the first few strides, she was so shocked at being manhandled that she went with him, but swiftly she regrouped and pulled away.  He grabbed her again and whipped her around. 
    “I am happy to be taking you where you must be,” he said.
    “I don’t wish to go with you.”
    “This Hotel Cairo, we leave for it now.”
    “We most certainly don’t.”
    He tightened his grip, and this time there was no pretense that he was escorting her.  He clamped a palm over her mouth and dragged her farther into the warren of deserted streets.
    She struggled to escape, but to no avail.  He wasn’t much bigger than she was, but he was thin and wiry.  She bit him very hard, and he yelped in pain and released her just long enough for her to lurch away.  But she tripped and fell to the cobbles, skidding on her hands and knees, hearing a tear in the fabric of her skirt. 
    Before he could grab her yet again, she managed a blood-curdling scream and had just scrambled to her feet when, from behind her, a very British male said, “Having a problem, Akbar?”
    “No, no, Sahib.  I am helping the mistress to her hotel.”
    “Seriously?”
    “Yes, yes.  Ask her.  She will tell all.”
    “I’m sure she will,” the man retorted, “but why am I betting her version will be a tad different than yours?”
    Theo’s bonnet had vanished, and her blond hair had tumbled down.  She pushed it out of her eyes and whirled to gape at her rescuer.
    His shoulders were broad, his waist narrow, his legs very, very long.  He was tall, six feet at least, and his virile presence seemed to fill the entire alley.
    He was dressed causally, in a flowing white shirt, tan trousers, and knee-high black boots.  He wore a hat with a wide brim that shaded his face, but she could see that his hair was black, his eyes very blue.  His skin was bronzed from the sun as if he’d been in Egypt for a lengthy period, but he was definitely British.  There was no mistaking that accent.
    To her great delight, he was heavily armed, a large pistol dangling from a holster on one hip, and a leather whip dangling from the other.
    “Are you all right, Miss?” he asked without glancing at her.
    “Yes, I’m fine.  A bit banged up, but I’m fine.”
    “Yes, Sahib,” her