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

picked up the London Times lying in its accustomed place and buried himself in it.
    "Tea, Your Grace?"
    Graham peered around the paper at the footman. The servants knew he drank strong, bitter Arabic coffee each morning, one reminder of his Egyptian life he'd not relinquished.
    "There's no more coffee?"
    "I'm so very sorry, Your Grace. Your brother drank it all. Cook is sending someone to the market for more. I can go myself next door right now and borrow some if you want...."
    "Never mind." Graham ducked behind his newspaper again, scanning headlines. Another aristocratic London family was auctioning off their valuables. A wealthy American named Henry Flagler had built a railroad from Jacksonville, Florida, to some godforsaken place called Biscayne Bay.
    Graham devoured this second piece of news with interest. American railroads were a good investment. But the family's losses in the Baltimore & Ohio were beginning to pinch; they needed to recoup their money. Still, things weren't too terrible. He was rich enough to buy a virgin for one night of enchanting pleasure... and then wake to the horror that he'd eagerly bedded the witch of his nightmares. His fingertips trailing over her skin, soft as rose petals... His heart pounded as he remembered her throaty cries of pleasure, the searing heat as he took her.
    It was just sex, he firmly admonished himself. As hot and sweet as it had been, only sex. Nothing more. Surely he'd feel the same with any other woman.
    He returned his attention to the paper, forcing himself to concentrate. A clanking noise made him set down the broadsheet. Graham glanced up as the downstairs maid shuffled past, carrying a coal bucket. Her head was down. Shy and timid. He remembered Kenneth's warning about being friendly with servants and dismissed it. A civil greeting couldn't hurt.
    Graham lowered his paper and watched her set the bucket down. She began to shovel coal into the grate, her head turned away like a shy bird.
    He offered a brief, friendly smile. "Good morning."
    The little maid stared, then a hesitant smile touched her lips. She bobbed an awkward curtsy. "Good morning, Yer Grace. I'll have yer fire all nice and cozy soon."
    Fires in the summer—a necessary luxury after living in Egypt for years. He watched the delicate blue flame catch and the coals begin to glow. His thoughts turned back to this very room where he'd shared breakfast with his indulgent parents. Graham smiled, lost in memory. Raspberry tarts. He'd loved those.
    "A warm tart..." he mused aloud.
    He heard a gasp and, glancing over, was startled to see the maid's blue eyes widen. "Ye like tarts, Yer Grace?"
    "Oh yes." He smiled, remembering. "Licking their centers, having that delicious sweetness flood your mouth..."
    She moistened her lips. "Ye like to tongue tarts, Yer Grace?"
    "Yes. Perhaps I should ask Cook to accommodate me."
    A look of comic incredulity filled the maid's face. "Her? I can serve ye, Yer Grace. It'd be my pleasure."
    And to his astounded shock, the maid set her shovel down and bustled to his side. She leaned down, pressing her ample breasts against him. "Yer Grace. Yer such a fine, strapping man, fit to warm a girl's bed. It's so cold in the attic."
    Graham felt a strangled breath escape. "I'll fetch you a blanket," he said.
    Her hand reached into his lap and fondled him. He gasped, but his cock gave an interested twitch.
    "You like tarts. I like yer sausage," she purred. "Care for a table-ender? Right quick?"
    "I beg your pardon?" he gasped. Beneath her eager, massaging hand, his cock jerked again.
    "Cor, blimey—it's a big, thick sausage," she said with an admiring gaze. He didn't know whether to reprimand or thank her.
    She rubbed her generous breasts against him. His body tightened, but not with the raging desire he'd experienced last night. Last night had been tender, passionate. This felt lustful, tawdry. The knowledge filled him with fresh dread. He needed to forget that redheaded witch, but his body