Page 1 of Kismet

Chapter 1

Marrakech, Morocco, 1893

Organized chaos. Allegra could think of no other way to describe the train station. The rhythmic sound of the Berber dialect mixing with the French language created a colorful cacophony of sound that engulfed her the moment she stepped onto the crowded platform. A whoosh of steam from the engine blasted its way out into the air, adding to the din.

It wasn’t any louder than London’s Paddington Station, but it was much more colorful and interesting. Spices and exotic fruits scented the air in a tantalizing fashion, while people pushed their way in and out of the one-story station house. A man, dressed in the flowing white robes of the Bedouins she’d read so much about, made his way along the platform followed by a woman dressed in a bright blue garment with a veil across her face. A porter dodged the couple and headed straight for Allegra. The small, wiry man came to a halt in front of her and bowed deeply.

“Mademoiselle Synnford, I am Ali. I come from Major Hastings and his bien-aimé.”

“Wonderful,” she said as she turned to see her maid directing the removal of their luggage from the railroad car. “Millie?”

“Yes, Miss Allegra.” The older woman turned her head toward her.

“This is Ali. He’s here to take our luggage to the carriage Isabelle’s fiancé arranged for us.”

Millie nodded before she gestured for the porter to see to one of the trunks sitting on the platform. Allegra bit back a smile as her maid started to bark orders like a general commanding a strategic assault.

Efficient and thorough, Millie managed everything in a way that always ensured a positive outcome. Over the years, numerous attempts had been made to lure Millie away from her and into the employ of others. Her friend would have none of it.

The shrill, high-pitched scream of a horse broke through her thoughts and she turned toward the sound. Hooves crashing against wood followed the animal’s loud shrieks. Over the past fifteen years, Allegra had learned a great deal about horses. She’d even acquired a sizable stable of thoroughbreds, which she ran at Newmarket in all the major events. Since her first riding lesson at the age of seventeen, she’d learned to recognize the difference between animals in distress and those that were merely high-strung.

This particular horse wasn’t suffering, although it was clearly agitated. Curiosity got the better of her and she carefully made her way along the crowded platform toward the disruption.

She’d passed almost five coaches when she saw a railcar designed to transport cattle and other animals. A wide plank ran from the straw-strewn floor of the car down to the platform so animals could be led off the train. Another shrill whinny erupted, followed by a violent thrashing of hooves on the sides of the car. Excited shouts filled the air, and in the next instant, a white Arabian stallion bolted down the wooden ramp and onto the platform with a young boy valiantly clinging to its halter rope. The already crowded platform exploded with panicked shouts as the horse released a shrill cry and reared up on its haunches before falling back onto all four legs.

Despite the panic around her, Allegra could only stare at the magnificent animal. It was the most beautiful horse she’d ever seen. Not even her champion thoroughbred, Seabreeze, could compare to this stallion. She was still caught up in the beauty of the horse when someone charged past her, knocking her off balance. Several more people rushed by, bumping her aside as they raced toward safety. Her balance precarious, she had almost righted herself when a man shoved her out of his path—she staggered to one side then tumbled to the ground.

Eyes rolling wildly in its head, the stallion reared up and brought its front hooves crashing back down in a vicious blow near where she lay. The boy still struggled with the animal, but he was no match for the stallion’s strength. The realization sent fear streaking through her as a pair of hooves pounded the wood floor of the platform, which reverberated beneath her with the force of the blow. The horse seemed close to gaining its freedom, and she froze as the animal reared up over her head.

In that breathless instant of terror, a dark shadow abruptly blotted out the image of the uncontrollable horse. The man took charge of the animal and brought it under control. His voice low and hypnotic, he soothed the animal in the language of the Bedouins. As the horse slowly grew quiet, she pushed herself up into a sitting position. Dazed, she pushed a loose strand of hair away from her face with a trembling hand.

The strand of lace that had ripped away from the cuff of her sleeve brushed across her cheek causing her to study it ruefully. She was extremely fortunate it was the only damage to her person. Gratitude swelled in her for the man who’d come to her rescue.

Allegra was just about to stand up when strong hands gripped her waist and lifted her to her feet. The light scent of bergamot tinged with an exotic spice teased her nose as she stared up at the man towering over her. It was impossible to stifle her gasp as the rest of her senses absorbed the full impact of his close proximity.

When she’d arrived in Morocco yesterday, Allegra had seen men who epitomized the romantic image her travel guide had painted of a Bedouin sheikh. But this man defied all those impressions. Dressed entirely in black, his kaffia was draped across his face so all she could see were his dark brown eyes.

A rush of heat warmed her skin at the intensity of the look in his hooded gaze. She was accustomed to being in the presence of powerful men, but never one such as this. This man possessed a raw, savage mystique about him that sent her heart skidding along at breakneck speed.

He was at least six feet tall, with wide shoulders and equally strong hands. Hands that only just now were releasing her. Even with her limited knowledge of the nomadic tribes of the Sahara and surrounding regions, she knew his height was unusual for a Bedouin. Instinct told her it was an advantage he used on a regular basis, just as he was doing now.

Transfixed, she couldn’t remember the last time a man had intimidated her. But this one did. The invisible, unrestrained aura of his maleness enveloped her. Here was a man of power. A man who bowed to no one. A man who conquered everything in his path.

Including her.

A shiver raced down Allegra’s spine as she took a quick step back from him. His gaze narrowed and she realized her trepidation showed. With one hand pressed to the base of her throat, she swallowed hard.

“Thank you,” she choked out from her suddenly dry mouth.

“You are unhurt then.”

His voice was just like him, dark and mysterious. His French was impeccable and mimicked that of the bluest of aristocrats, yet she doubted there was a drop of Gallic blood flowing through his veins. Still, it was easy to understand why the horse had been so easily soothed. The man had the seductive voice of a dark angel, the sound of which could easily make the most pious of women consider the possibility of sin. Realizing she’d not responded to him, she brushed her hand across her temple in another attempt to straighten her appearance.

“I’m a bit shaken, but none the worse for wear.”

She dropped her gaze and swatted at the dirt still layering her skirt. Those deep brown eyes of his made her feel as if he could see straight through her. It was a disconcerting sensation, and she didn’t like it. It made her feel out of control, something she never allowed herself when she was with a man. Fire blazed through her as strong fingers captured her lower jaw. He tilted her face to one side.

“You should ask the hotel manager to give you ice for that cheek, ma belle.”