The Panther & the Pyramid (Khamsin Warriors of the Wind) Read Online Free Page A

blows. He had adapted out of a pure instinct for survival. This ability had served him well when he finally accepted his heritage and came home to England, leaving the desert, its draining heat and bitter memories, to shapeshift into the role of duke.
    He'd forced himself to transform from a simple desert warrior into a sophisticated duke. Yet inside, he had not changed. He prowled the margins of a different campfire now—the glittering balls and London fetes, with their sparkling crystal and equally sparkling conversation. Smiling and nodding, he maintained an aloof yet polite presence. It had created an aura of mystery that ladies found irresistible, and it hid his inner torment, camouflaging his pain much as a thorn tree's leaves disguised a panther.
    But once in a great while, his carefully cultivated composure cracked. A face seen in a crowd could cull shameful memories, and the duke would dissolve from fierce jungle cat into wounded kitten; a scared little boy trapped in Egypt, sobbing for the parents he'd seen brutally killed, who'd been dragged into the dark interior of a black tent where an evil predator had pounced upon him. A terrified child who only wanted to scream and scream...
    During those times, Graham would shudder. He'd fight the childish compulsion to shriek; he'd gulp down deep, calming breaths. He'd flee to a deep place inside himself where no one would witness his shame, and would force the outside world to see only a man with a tight smile.
    He had not experienced one of those episodes, outside of the usual dreams, in more than a year. Until now. Until the woman he had taken in the fierce heat of desire turned out to be his living nightmare.
    The violent tremors affecting him since fleeing Madame LaFontant's had ceased. By the time the hackney cab reached his home in Mayfair, he was able to present his usual quiet control to the stiff-spined footmen attending the massive oaken door. Disappearing upstairs to his expansive rooms at the end of the long corridor, he firmly shut the door behind him. Graham shoved a trembling hand through his damp hair.
    The redhead in his dreams. Emerald eyes. How could it be?
    Fate , his inner voice mocked. She is your fate. Your destiny . Yes, said his superstitious Egyptian upbringing. His formative years had been spent molded by tales of wicked jinn haunting the desert sands. His English side scorned such ideas and pushed the thought aside.
    Striding to his dressing room, he stripped off his clothing, balling it up and tossing it onto the floor. Nude, he padded over to the adjoining water closet and splashed cold water into the basin. Graham doused his face and flung back his head, spraying droplets onto the mirror. His face, pale and drained, stared back at him.
    He glanced downward and flinched at the dried scarlet on his thighs and his soft member. Her virgin's blood marked him.
    With a low curse, he wetted a towel and scrubbed himself vigorously, but guilt assailed him at the thought of taking her innocence and the callous way he'd abandoned her, lying in bed, looking at him with those wide green eyes stamped with hurt. Treating her like a whore.
    But she tricked me!
    Graham tossed aside the towel, padded naked into his dressing room and snagged the fresh clothing his valet had laid out the previous night. He dressed quickly in a crisp white shirt with a starched collar, black and gray silk trousers, black cravat, a double-breasted charcoal gray and black vest, a gray morning coat and patent leather shoes. The gilded mirror showed a dark-haired, dark-eyed, expressionless aristocrat in proper English dress. It did not show the violent turmoil churning inside.
    He went downstairs in search of food and calming routine.
    The pale yellow, cheerful breakfast room was empty. On a polished sideboard, silver hot plates contained his favorite dishes. Graham selected freshly scrambled eggs, a warm muffin dripping with golden butter and four strips of crisp bacon. He sat and