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“I'm here to rescue you,” he continued, hefting himself onto the window sill and stepping forward into the room. “Get dressed. We haven't much time.”

She laid the brush aside and pulled on a robe of the same fabric as her chemise. It didn't increase her level of modesty dramatically, but it would have to do. She then looked him over, noting the sodden formal attire and his bare chest underneath. “Who are you?”

“My name is Nick Kismet.” He extended a hand, unsure if that was the correct protocol for greeting royalty. “I got bored at the party and decided to go for a moonlight swim. Now, if you have no objection, I think we should get moving.”

She regarded him warily, but took his hand and followed his lead. He rolled over the windowsill, dropping noiselessly onto the ground below then reached out to help her. She lowered herself into his embrace, intuitively understanding what was required. As her arms tightened around his body, he could not help notice how good she smelled.

He grudgingly relaxed his hold, allowing her to stand on her own. Elisabeth's posture seemed to flaunt her figure; she crossed her arms under her breasts, thrusting them up as if for inspection. In every other way, she seemed cool and detached, as if this were the sort of thing she did every day, and no longer found it even mildly stimulating. “Now what, Nick Kismet?”

Kismet shook his head to break the hypnotic spell cast by her breasts. “Now, we get out of here.”

“Lead on,” she replied, almost indifferently.

Kismet nodded. He glanced around, locating the lone sentry at the far end of the wall, apparently in the midst of another smoke break. He gestured in the opposite direction. “This way.”

“I take it the Sultan sent you.”

“Your husband,” he replied, as if to remind himself. “No, nothing like that. Like I said, I was at the reception on the ship when these guys made their big debut. I snuck onto their boat and hid out while they loaded her up. I didn’t even know they had you until I saw you disembarking here.”

She looked past Kismet, as if distracted. “I don't recognize you. I thought I knew most of his friends, especially the Americans.”

“I've never met him,” Kismet explained, holding out his hand. She regarded it suspiciously than placed her own smooth palm in his.

“But you volunteered to rescue me? Just like that? How very heroic of you.” If she was mocking him, Kismet could not hear it in her tone. She kept her voice kept low as they stole along the inside perimeter of the wall. “I’m lucky you came along. I don't think the Sultan cares enough to try to rescue me. The sapphire maybe—”

“I’m sure your husband is very concerned for your safety.”

She smiled knowingly into the darkness. “You are a very naive man, Mr. Kismet. The Sultan’s chief concern is the preservation of his lifestyle. I am but one of many playthings he has acquired. If he is concerned, it is because he does not like losing his toys.”

Kismet paused at the base of the wall, pulling Elisabeth down as the guard began the return phase of his patrol. “Well, I am concerned for your safety.”

“I’m touched,” she replied, her voice ringing genuine. “But you are also here for the treasures, aren't you? You said you didn’t even know I was onboard. You were following the treasures. I mean, that’s probably why you came on the cruise in the first place.”

It was Kismet's turn to smile unseen. “You have no idea. But I wouldn't trade my life — or anyone else's — for a few dusty relics.”

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” she whispered. “I know where they’re keeping most of it. I’m sure the sapphire is there.”

Her statement, delivered in the same offhand tone that she had used since he stepped into her life, caught him totally off guard. “What?”

“I know where Jin will put it. I can get it, if you'll let me.”

“Jin?” Kismet didn’t recognize the name, but it was safe to assume that Elisabeth had named the leader of the pirates. He did not have to ask about the gemstone she kept referring to. The Zamaron Sapphire was one of the few pieces in the collection to be publicly advertised in advance of the floating exhibition. The prize of the Sultan’s collection, it was in fact the “star” for which the cruise ship had been named. The enormous star sapphire, three hundred and twenty three carats, had originally been found in India a thousand years before Christ, and was reputed to have mystical powers. It had all but fallen out of history, hoarded by a succession of men who, like the recently deceased Sultan, kept such a marvelous and remarkable treasure hidden away for its own safety. Priceless or not, Kismet wasn’t about to risk his safety — or anyone else’s — for the gemstone. “Too dangerous. The Sultan can get it later if it’s that important.”

“Later?”

“After he shows up with the cavalry and levels this place. I’m sure he’s already looking for you.”

“What on earth are you talking about?”

“Never mind. Let's go.”

“Wait.” Her voice carried an urgency that compelled him to stop. “I am not leaving without that stone.”

“Are you nuts?” he hissed. He turned to face her, but she was already moving away. He had to break into a jog to catch her. “What the hell do you think you are doing?”

“I’m getting the sapphire,” she replied, her eyes glittering with anticipation. “When you walk out of here, you’re going to get to show me off as your prize. Well, I’m going to have that stone. Trust me. I know exactly where it is. I can get it.”

Kismet scowled, but knew that she was prepared to argue until she got her way, and that precious time would be lost in a futile effort to dissuade her. “All right, but hurry.”

“Follow me.”

As Kismet walked closely behind the actress, he once more found himself confronted with her beauty. Yet it was not only her physical form that alternately aroused and discomfited him. Her casual disinterest seemed to mask a passionate, win-at-all-cost spirit, and he found that almost irresistible.

What in the hell are you thinking, Kismet? She's a married woman.

Elisabeth led him unhesitatingly through the compound. “You seem to know this place awfully well for a hostage.”

“I got the nickel tour when we arrived.” She diverted him back into the compound, to the door of a large building that adjoined to the east wall of the fortress. The rusted iron latch parted with a tortured shriek, causing Kismet to wince, but evidently raised no alarm. “In here.”

The expansive barn-style doors opened into an enormous room that might have passed for a medieval mead hall. The space was dimly lit with oil lamps hanging from wrought iron hooks in each corner, but otherwise unfurnished. A balcony extended out at the second story level, encircling the hall like a mezzanine. Though the floor was littered with straw, and the air reeked of animal odors, the building did not seem to be a barn in the strictest sense. Kismet saw several of the ATVs lined up against one wall, still shackled to utility carts.

“Wait here,” directed Elisabeth, hastening through the interior.

“I’m coming with you.”

She shook her head confidently. “It's better if I go alone.” She blew him a kiss over her shoulder then disappeared into the dimness. “Wait here. I won't be a minute.”

Kismet sighed, leaning against the wall. The sudden inaction frustrated him. He had been constantly moving, constantly doing; now he was just waiting. He paced out a small circle, making three orbits, before he could take it no more.

Elisabeth had surely been caught. He had to help her.

Leaving the relative shelter near the entrance, he ventured out into the open. The four corner lamps threw out semicircles of light through their streaked glass panes, light that fell impotently on the hay-strewn floor without offering any real illumination. Kismet strode the length of the hall, peering into the shadows at the far end for some indication of another exit.