Algerian Desert, 1833
Held captive in a Bedouin camp, Susannah Sutcliffe was bid to dress in scandalous silks and dance for the sheikhâs guests. The request wasnât new to Susannahâbut the presence of English diplomat Alex Grayfield was a shock she had not anticipated!
Handsome and charming, Alex exuded a powerful masculinity that Susannah found irresistibleâ¦and he was unmistakably aroused by her sensual dance. Soon, Susannah had a plan to escape her desert captors: convince Alex to rescue herâby seducing himâ¦
Alex and Susannahâs story was so much fun to write! Alex is a rugged intellectual which gave him a very sexy edge. He seemed the perfect comrade for Crispin Ramsden. The idea to set the story in the desert sprang from a remark Crispin makes in his story, Untamed Rogue, Scandalous Mistress, about how he acquired his horse. I thought it would be intriguing to use an Undone to explore where Crispin has been during his three year absence from England. This adventure in the desert seemed ideal.
I hope you enjoy the backdrop for the story. Many of my readers are like me and love to learn something from the books they read. For those folks, hereâs a great chance to learn about desert life; the moussems, the souk, the relationship between camels and horses, are all as authentic as I could make them. For history lovers, I based Alex and Crispinâs foray into the desert specifically around the events happening after the French take over Algiers. Abd al-Qadir was a real historical figure and was considered a great hero in Algerian history for his rebellion against the French, which was indeed staged from Mascara.
Enjoy, and keep reading!
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Chapter I
Northern Desert of Algeria, May, 1833
Alex Grayfield unwrapped the long lengths of his turban and breathed a deep lungful of night air, expelling it with a long âAhhh.â On the nearing horizon, the flickering of torch lights illuminated a massive array of tents, a Bedouin village rising from the sands. The faint sounds of music and laughter beckoned welcomingly across the distance. He took another deep breath and closed his eyes in satisfaction. Beside him, Crispin Ramsdenâs horse shifted on the sands.
âDo you smell what I smell?â Alex exhaled almost reverently. God, he loved the desert. Out here, he was free.
âTrouble?â Crispin gave a low chuckle.
âWomen.â
âIs there a difference?â
They laughed together in the rising darkness, spurring their horses forward, both of them eager to arrive at the encampment now that the journey was nearly done. Algiers, with its narrow streets and smells of fish and coffee, was two days behind them, the edge of the desert before them.
âYou canât really smell them at this distance.â Crispin challenged good-naturedly, pulling his horse alongside.
âCanât you?â Alex couldnât resist the gibe. He smiled. âI can smell incense and wine, meat roasting in its own juices on a spit. Only women can conjure such delicious smells.â
âWhere thereâs a woman, thereâs danger.â Crispin warned and not without reason. Europe was littered with his bedroom intrigues.
âWell, you would know best on that score.â Alex shrugged. âThereâs bound to be danger anyway, women notwithstanding.â Their journey into the desert was no pleasure trip. He and Crispin had been sent to this gathering of Bedouins to take the political temperature of the nomads.
Algiers had capitulated to the French, and Britain wanted to know if there was anything to be gained by supporting the desert rebels rallying against the French occupation. Guerrilla forces under the Emir of Mascara, Abd al Qadir, were already amassed and established after their victory. In November, the emirâs army had stopped a French advance into the desert. Buoyed by the emirâs success, would others join the fight to liberate Algiers? If so, perhaps Britain might covertly assist in an attempt to offset the growing power of French colonialism. Alex knew as well as Crispin the import of their mission. He who controlled the desert controlled North Africa.
âDo we have a connection or are we just showing up and hoping we arenât killed on the spot?â Crispin turned the conversation towards more serious issues now that their appearance at the camp was imminent. They werenât the first team to attempt to arrive here, although they might be the first team to arrive intact. Six months ago, Lord Sutcliffeâs entourage, including his daughter, had set out from Algiers. But theyâd never arrived at their destination. The entire group was presumed most tragically dead.