glanced down at his wristwatch. Maybe half an hour, but it would be the next day before she could catch a flight out. “I’ll book a room for you in the Abbula Hotel,” he offered. “And for you, Mauve. I know you’ve been at the Crescent, but I’d like you to be near Amelia if you don’t mind. The Abbula is a comfortable blend of my culture and your own, Ms. Corbet. Perhaps you won’t feel so much that you’ve been dropped in the middle of barbarians.”
He saw the flush creep over her cheeks once again and felt a dart of shame at his own conduct. At least Amelia had the upbringing to be ashamed of herself. And she had apologized. Now he had been the one to show rudeness.
“That would be lovely, Mr. Dukhan,” Amelia said with perfect grace. “But it isn’t necessary. I’m sure that I can manage in Alexandria as well as I can in any other international city.”
There was just enough challenge in her voice to make Harad smile. She was a woman of spirit, a trait he admired in both men and women. “My offer was not meant to imply that you needed assistance, only that I would like to extend the courtesy. Your first impression of my country could not possibly be favorable. I assure you that most visitors aren’t accosted in the airport. While you are here, I want you to see the best of what Alexandria has to offer.”
He could see that Amelia wasn’t fooled one little bit, but she nodded and thanked him sweetly.
A tap at the door signaled the arrival of the doctor. Mauve greeted the white-coated gentleman like an old friend, and Harad remembered that the redhead had been poisoned, too. Someone had put something in her coffee and Dr. Rashad had taken care of her—with some help from Omar. In fact, Beth Bradshaw’s entire quest to find the lost City of Con had been fraught with dangerous incidents. But Omar, Harad, Beth and the uncanny black feline, Familiar, had rounded up the men responsible for trying to injure Beth and to steal her research. Those men were behind bars.
So why had someone attacked Amelia? The question niggled in the back of his brain as he started to make his excuses and step from the room to allow the doctor time to examine Amelia.
Another tap at the door halted him. It swung wide to reveal a tall man with broad shoulders and a long stride who stepped immediately to Amelia’s side. He carried a clipboard, and his dark eyes were solemn as they examined Amelia.
“Ms. Corbet, this is Dr. Mosheen.” Dr. Rashad made the introductions. “He specializes in poisons.”
“Kaffar Mosheen,” the man said, stepping slightly in front of Harad as he took Amelia’s hand. He kissed it in a smooth, continental gesture.
“Dr. Mosheen is a botanist as well as a doctor,” Dr. Rashad explained. “He provided the antidote for you, and he’s expressed a personal interest in your case. He asked to meet you. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all,” Amelia said, turning to the taller doctor. “Thank you, Dr. Mosheen. I was very sick, but I’m feeling much better now.”
Harad felt his jaw muscles twitch at the way Amelia was smiling up into the doctor’s eyes. She was looking at him as if he had descended from heaven.
“The poison was very interesting,” Dr. Mosheen said. He leaned toward Amelia and unerringly bent to examine her neck. “The point of injection was fortunate. It missed the arteries. It is my guess that your assailant had a small ring that would spring open and reveal a tiny needle. The needle had been dipped in the poison, which is not normally lethal. My supposition is that the incident was intended to make you very sick and dizzy. You were spared much of the discomfort thanks to your friend, who acted so quickly and called an ambulance. My curiosity is aroused, though. It is a very old poison not commonly used against humans.”
“You’re making us feel better and better,” Mauve said with a hint of sarcasm. “Next you’ll tell us that the poison is the weapon of choice of either a satanic cult or a terrorist group bent on killing all Americans.”
Dr. Mosheen laughed softly, but his eyes remained serious. “Not quite so dramatic. The poison comes from a common plant, therefore many people could have knowledge of its use. In a very diluted form it’s used to spray cotton plants to kill insects.” He shrugged. “It would not be difficult to find. An attack of this sort is not the style of a terrorist group. More likely the attacker was a common thief who targeted Ms. Corbet as a wealthy American traveler.”
“I’m sure you’ve informed the police of all this,” Harad cut in.
He saw Amelia’s eyebrows lift slightly, and he knew his tone had been curt.
“Yes, the authorities are informed,” Dr. Mosheen said smoothly. “They will want to question Ms. Corbet tomorrow, when she is completely recovered. I will send them to your hotel—”
“I’ll make sure she gets to the police department,” Harad said. “Can Ms. Corbet leave now?” He addressed the question to the older doctor.
“Yes,” Dr. Rashad said. “She must be watched, though.”
Kaffar Mosheen seemed oblivious to Harad’s terse behavior. He turned back to Amelia. “If you are staying in Alexandria, I’d very much like to talk with you about the sensations of the drug—and that interesting pendant you’re wearing.” He reached into the pocket of his white coat and pulled out a business card and pressed it gently into Amelia’s hand. “Please call me if you find you have a free hour. It would greatly help my research.”
“Yes, thank you, Doctor.” Amelia took the card.
Both doctors left the room, already talking about another case. Harad found himself standing at the door, feeling completely out of place. It wasn’t an emotion he’d felt often, and he distinctly disliked it.
“If you’ll excuse me,” Amelia said, “I’ll dress with Mauve’s help.”
Harad nodded and stepped outside the door without a word. He took up his position in the hallway, waiting for the women. Amelia was a burden transferred from his brother’s back to his own. So why had he gotten so irritated at the way Dr. Mosheen had been coming on to her? And it had been a come-on. Research! Bah! The doctor recognized a beautiful woman when he saw one, and he was not so wrapped up in his research that he wasn’t interested in making a move on the American.
AMELIA GRINNED as she looked into Mauve’s dancing eyes. “Well, that was interesting.”
“It would appear Mr. Dukhan has a personal stake in what you do, and with whom.” Mauve’s grin was delighted.
“Wrong,” Amelia said. “I don’t let men boss me around. Especially not men I don’t know. Most especially not a man with an attitude.”
Mauve reached under the hospital bed and pulled out Amelia’s suitcase. She lifted it to the bed as Amelia swung her legs out from under the sheets and gingerly stood, fighting a wave of dizziness as she clutched at the hospital gown. “These things ought to be banned,” she said. “They’re hideous. I wonder what happened to my clothes.”
Mauve shrugged. “They took you into the emergency room, and when you came out you were in this hospital getup. I can go check if you’d like.”
Amelia shook her head. “Let it go. I just want to get out of here.” Reaching for the suitcase, she started to unzip it, when she found a long slash in the leather. “Look at this,” she said, calling Mauve’s attention to the cut.
“When
