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“Cam?” Leanna whispered. “Where is everybody?”
The bronze doors swung slowly open.
“Get behind me,” Cam said sharply, but the figure that appeared was far from threatening. It was a woman, slender and silver-haired, dressed in a flowing white robe. She made a deep curtsy, then rose, steepled her fingers and touched them to her forehead.
“Welcome, my lord.”
Her voice was soft, her English clear and only lightly accented.
Cam squeezed Leanna’s hand as he drew her forward. “What is this place?”
“You have arrived at the Palace of the Moon, my lord.” The woman smiled at Leanna. “And my lady. Welcome to you, too. You have had a long journey.”
“Thank you.” Leanna’s voice was strong but her hand trembled in Cam’s. He put his arm around her and drew her close.
“I am called Shalla.”
“Shalla,” Cam said politely. “You seem to have been expecting us.”
The woman gave a tinkling laugh. “Forgive me, sir. I should have realized you would have questions. Yes, we expected you. Our watchers in the turrets saw you approach. Besides, we are always prepared for the arrival of weary travelers. We are a sacred place, a haven between the dangerous lands of the western desert and the outer world.”
It was a good story, maybe even a true one. Cam knew that the myths and legends of antiquity were often grounded in reality.
“No one can come here to do evil, lord, unless that person is willing to bring down the vengeance of the gods.”
“We’re happy to hear it.”
Shalla gestured to the open doors. “Please, come in. I will show you to your rooms. You can bathe and rest while your dinner is prepared.”
Cam heard Salome sigh. It was the softest of sounds, but it held a world of longing. He couldn’t ask her to keep going without food and rest. If nothing else, they could stay here long enough for her to recover from their forced march—and for him to try and contact the outside world.
He nodded, and they followed Shalla into the great entry hall of the Palace of the Moon.
Half a dozen steps inside, Salome stopped and stared in amazement. “Wow,” she said softly.
She was right. Wow just about covered it. The only time Cam had been in a hall this large, he was twelve years old on a field trip to a museum.
The floor was black marble and shimmered with light pouring down from an open gold dome dozens of feet over their heads. Moorish arches stretched deep into the vast interior. A curved staircase climbed toward the second floor.
The palace was spectacular, a fantasy of color and texture, like something out of the Arabian Nights.
It was the kind of place a man brought a woman for days and nights of pleasure. He looked at Salome. Even now, her face smudged with dirt, her clothing in tatters, exhaustion burning like fire in her eyes, she was as beautiful as a dream.
How many other men had looked at her and thought the same thing?
And why in hell should it matter? He didn’t give a damn who she’d been with or who she’d sold herself to. He hadn’t sought out this place for some romantic fantasy. They’d stumbled across it out of sheer luck, and they’d make the most of their time here.
They needed rest. Food. Supplies. Most of all, he needed a plan that would get them back to civilization…
Cam’s mouth thinned.
Who was he kidding? What he needed most was Salome, moving under him in bed. Her legs, wrapped around his hips. Her body, his for the tak—
“My lord? If you would follow me, please?”
Cam blinked. “Yes. Yes, of course.”
This had to stop, he thought grimly, as they followed Shalla up the stairs. Salome was driving him crazy, and he didn’t like it. Distraction was the last thing a man needed in this kind of situation.
