Page 70 of Kismet

Hate took over and sent her staggering to her feet. She swayed slightly, her hand shaking as she held her small weapon in front of her. His laughter added fuel to the fire inside her, and she lunged forward with the blade. In the next instant, a powerful force slammed into her and dragged her away from Nassar. Furious, she released a primal wail of rage. Where was her knife? She’d dropped it. She needed it to kill Nassar. Her fury numbed the pain in her back as she went down on her knees. Her fingers dug viciously through the dirt to find the blade. A large hand found the weapon first and tossed it out of reach.

For the first time, she recognized Shaheen’s unmistakable spicy scent as his harsh breaths echoed in her ear. He’d stopped her. He’d prevented her from attaining the vengeance she so desperately wanted. Rage sharpened the edge of her hate and her blood pumped fiercely through her veins as he pulled her to her feet. The dark strength flowing through her pushed her beyond reason and she clawed at Shaheen’s face. He’d rejected her, and now he thought to protect her. She didn’t want him anywhere near her.

“Let me go, you bastard,” she screamed with pained fury. “Let me go.”

She swung her arm and the force of her blow sounded loudly against the side of his face. When he pinned her hands against his chest, she resorted to using her feet and knees.

“For the love of God, Allegra. Stop fighting me,” Shaheen rasped.

Behind them, the sound of steel against steel caught their attention and they both turned their heads. The moment she saw Khalid facing off with his brother, she sagged against him like a rag doll. Concerned she might faint, Shaheen wrapped his arm around her to provide support. The moment he did so, her soft cry of agony filled him with remorse. He’d hurt her.

“Where are you hurt?”

“Get away from me.” Her voice was a savage hiss of fury and hate.

The sound of it sliced through his heart with vicious precision. She shoved free of his touch and put several feet between them. The moment her gaze met his, he wanted to cry out from the excruciating pain of her contemptuous look. The scorn in her eyes burned him. Condemned him. Christ Jesus, what had he done by sending her away this morning? At that moment, Shaftsbury stirred on the ground, and he went to help his cousin to his feet. Allegra staggered toward the man and collapsed into his embrace. A wild cry of anguish rose up inside him as he watched her go willingly to Shaftsbury. She’d suffered tonight, and Shaftsbury was a friend she trusted. Friend and lover. He shoved the thought aside. No, he needed to give her time. Behind him, he heard Nassar taunting Khalid.

“Well, now, brother.” A nasty smile curled Nassar’s lips as he sneered his greeting. “Somehow I knew you’d be responsible for this unwarranted attack and massacre of my people.”

“Massacre?” Khalid’s voice was icy as he faced Nassar. “This is justice.”

“For what? Killing a slut who betrayed me for you?”

The slur drew a loud cry from Khalid as he lunged forward, his sword whipping up into the air. It descended downward toward Nassar, but the sharp clang of steel against steel echoed through the small area as Nassar blocked the attack. With a dazzling display of speed, Khalid twirled his sword in his hands as he attacked his brother again.

Steel crashed in the air as the two men swung their weapons with a swift and deadly strength. The intense look on Khalid’s face was troubling. It was the first time he’d ever seen his friend allow emotion to enter into his fighting. The usual methodical expression on his face was gone. In its place was a sinister emotion he didn’t care to name.

“Come, brother. Surely you can do better than this,” Nassar said with a cold smile. “Your whore is better off dead than living with a man who can’t fight.”

The Sheikh’s only response to his brother’s taunt was a flash of steel as his sword bit through cloth and into Nassar’s sword arm. The stroke drew a bright spurt of blood, and for the first time Khalid smiled. Seeing his brother’s satisfied expression, Nassar moved with the speed of a cobra. Quickly switching sword hands, he struck out at Khalid. Blood flowed as his sword left a long nasty cut across Khalid’s face.

A red river streamed down his friend’s face onto his shoulder, and Shaheen grimaced at the sight. It was only a flesh wound, but Khalid’s emotions were getting the best of him with every taunt his brother threw out at him. He could tell by Nassar’s smile that the other man knew it, too.

“Enough,” Khalid snarled. “We finish this, now!”

Moonlight flashed off the weapons as metal struck metal with sparks flying off the swords. With a skillful twist of his body, Khalid moved through an opening in Nassar’s defense. The moment he did so, his expression said he recognized the trap. Nassar danced to one side and dragged his sword across Khalid’s stomach. There were no words, only a look of calm resignation on Khalid’s face as he slowly sank to his knees.

Shaheen didn’t wait for his friend to collapse onto the sandy desert floor before he charged forward. He ignored Nassar’s smile of contempt and focused on the fact that the man was nursing a wound on his shoulder. Khalid had struck his brother in the arm not the shoulder. Had Allegra stabbed the bastard before he and Khalid had arrived? Blood soaked the Sheikh’s robe, but he moved as if it were a minor wound. Despite that, it was clear he was favoring his sword arm. He was protecting it with every move.

Blocking out everything except the battle to come, he focused on the man opposite him and finding his weakness. With each move the man made, he listened and watched his response to every thrust and parry. The smell of blood filled the air, its soft coppery scent a reminder that Khalid was hurt. As he fought Nassar, he heard the subtle change in his opponent’s breathing. It was an indicator that the man was tiring.

Elated, a surge of energy swelled through him, and he swung his sword up and to the side. Nassar simply arched his body like a bow as he leaped back from the bold swing. Pressing his attack, Shaheen swung his sword again and again. Each time his sword met Nassar’s the other man’s blows were lighter than before. It was then he saw it.

Nassar was favoring his left foot. Leaping forward he feinted an upward swing of his sword, and as the other man parried upward, Shaheen dropped and sliced across Nassar’s right thigh with his weapon. Rolling to one side, he lightly sprang to his feet, then whirled around to face the man, who’d sunk to his knees, one hand pressed against a dark, bloody wound.

Not hesitating, he lunged forward again, and with a vicious thrust, he sent his sword into Nassar’s chest. The man’s face became a mask of stunned amazement. Staring down into the face of his enemy, he thrust the sword deeper. As the life light flickered and died in Nassar’s eyes, he braced his foot on the man’s shoulder and withdrew his weapon. Somehow, he’d thought killing Nassar would free him, but it didn’t. He wasn’t sure anything would ever alleviate the guilt he felt at letting Allegra out of his sight.

He turned back to where Jabbar was tending to his friend. Allegra sat with his head in her lap. Pale and drawn, she looked ready to collapse. Guilt and pain crashed through him at having been the catalyst for her suffering. His gaze didn’t leave her face as he moved forward. Silently, he willed her to look at him, but she didn’t spare him a glance. A wave of hopelessness sailed through him and he knelt down at Khalid’s side. The warlord had opened the Amazigh Sheikh’s gambaz to examine the wound, and as Shaheen studied the extent of his friend’s injury, he knew the man didn’t have much time. Raising his head, he shouted for Jamal. Khalid’s hand gripped his arm.

“Hakim . . . where is . . . Hakim?” The Sheikh’s voice was already weak.

Biting the inside of his cheek, the salty taste of his own blood slid across his tongue. Christ Jesus, what was he going to tell his friend? How could he tell Khalid that he’d left Hakim in Jamal’s care when the boy had taken a blow meant for him? The boy would live, but Khalid— Again he threw his head back and roared for Jamal. A hand gripped his shoulder and he looked up into Charles’s sympathetic face.

“Tell me where the boy is. I’ll fetch him.”

“I left him with Jamal about six tents back.” The irony of the situation was not lost on Shaheen as he tossed his head toward the direction of where he’d left the young Amazigh heir. The man who’d come to take him back to see his dying father was now going to find the son of another dying man.

“Right, I’ll be back in a moment.”