Scoundrel's Honor (Russian Connection 3)

Without warning his hand dropped from her face and his expression became guarded.

“I will bow to the pasha’s will.”

Emma regarded him with a frown, sensing that she had touched a source of distress.

“Does the thought of marrying for political gain trouble you?”

His smile was forced. “I have known I was to be a pawn from the moment my father sent me to England to be groomed as a diplomat.”

“That does not answer my question.”

The dark eyes narrowed, as if caught off guard by her persistence. And perhaps he was. Rajih was obviously unaccustomed to sharing his feelings. No doubt the burden of being born a caliph.

For a moment she could easily imagine Rajih as a young boy, forced to watch as his country was overrun with infidel invaders, and then the pain of being sent to England where he must have felt alone and terrified by his strange surroundings.

What man would not have learned to guard his emotions?

At last he offered a slow nod. “Yes, Emma, it troubles me greatly that my life is not my own to arrange as I would desire, but I accept my duty.” His expression softened as his gaze swept over her upturned face. “And more important, I have discovered the importance of embracing happiness when it makes its rare appearance.”

She ducked her head, unwilling to encourage his flirtations. She suspected that his gentlemanly restraint would be tossed aside with the slightest encouragement.

“Have you discovered nothing of my sister?”

Rajih heaved a faint sigh, then he pulled a curtain across the carriage window, thankfully blocking out the relentless sunlight.

“I have learned the Katherine Marie docked two days before we arrived at Alexandria and that the crew remained at least one night in the city.”

Emma was torn between relief that she was still on her sister’s trail, and the frustration that she continued to remain just out of reach.

“And when they left, did they come to Cairo?”

“That was their intention.”

She stiffened as she heard the edge in his voice.

“What are you not telling me?”

“The Russian who was in charge of the girls was determined to flee Alexandria,” he said. “Perhaps he sensed he was being followed.”

She grabbed his

arm, wanting to shake the truth from him.

“Rajih.”

“As I told you, the most convenient means to travel is by boat, but it is also the most noticeable.” He grimaced. “A smuggler could not risk attracting the attention of the pasha’s guards.”

His words made sense. The men responsible for kidnapping the girls had proven an undeniable talent for remaining invisible.

“So how did they travel?”

“By caravan.”

Emma frowned. Since arriving in Egypt she had often seen the long line of camels and occasionally horses as they moved over the distant hills. It had not appeared a particularly comfortable means of travel, but it was not unusual.

“I do not understand—” Her words came to an abrupt halt as she was hit by a sudden realization. “Oh, dear Lord. The sandstorm.”

He gave a sharp nod. “Yes.”