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Zusatztext By the author of The Engagement "An author with star quality...Spectacularly talented." -- Romantic Times Informationen zum Autor Suzanne Robinson Klappentext Only one woman could win the... Heart of the Falcon . All her life! raven-haired Anqet had basked in the tranquility of Nefer...until the day her father died and her uncle descended upon the estate! hungry for her land! hungry for her. Desperate to escape his cruel obsession! she fled. But now! masquerading as a commoner in the magnificent city of Thebes! Anqet faces a new danger. Mysterious and seductive! Count Seth seems to be a soldier loyal to the pharaoh. Yet soon Anqet will find that he's drawn her into a web of treachery and desire! where one false move could end her life... and his fiery passion could brand her soul forever. Set against the glorious opulence of the pharaoh's court! this is a breathtaking tale! rich with pageantry and aflame with unforgettable romance. Anqet waited for the procession to pass. She had asked for directions to the Street of the Scarab. If she was correct, this alley would lead directly to her goal. She followed the dusty, shaded path between windowless buildings, anxious to reach the house of Lady Gasantra before dark. She hadn't eaten since leaving her barber companion and his family earlier in the afternoon, and her stomach rumbled noisily. She hoped Tamit would remember her. They hadn't seen each other for several years. The alley twisted back and forth several times, but Anqet at last saw the intersection with the Street of the Scarab. Intent upon reaching the end of her journey, she ran into the road, into the path of an oncoming chariot. There was a shout, then the screams of outraged horses as the driver of the chariot hauled his animals back. Anqet ducked to the ground beneath pawing hooves. Swerving, the vehicle skidded and tipped. The horses reared and stamped, showering stones and dust over Anqet. From behind the bronze-plated chariot came a stream of oaths. Someone pounced on Anqet from the vehicle, hauling her to her feet by her hair, and shaking her roughly. "You little gutter-frog! I ought to whip you for dashing about like a demented antelope. You could have caused one of my horses to break a leg." Anqet's head rattled on her shoulders. Surprised, she bore with this treatment for a few moments before stamping on a sandaled foot. There was a yelp. The shaking stopped, but now two strong hands gripped her wrists. Silence reigned while her attacker recovered from his pain, then a new string of obscenities rained upon her. The retort she thought up never passed her lips, for when she raised her eyes to those of the charioteer, she forgot her words. Eyes of deep green, the color of the leaves of a water lily. Eyes weren't supposed to be green. Eyes were brown, or black, and they didn't blaze with the molten fury of the Lake of Fire in the Book of the Dead. Anqet stared into those pools of malachite until, at a call behind her, they shipped to look over her head. "Count Seth! My lord, are you injured?" "No, Dega. See to the horses while I deal with this, this..." Anqet stared up at the count while he spoke to his servant. He was unlike any man she had ever seen. Tall, slender, with lean, catlike muscles, he had wide shoulders that were in perfect proportion to his flat torso and long legs. He wore a short soldier's kilt belted around his hips. A bronze corselet stretched tight across his wide chest; leather bands protected his wrists and accentuated elegant, long-fingered hands that gripped Anqet in a numbing hold. Anqet gazed back at Count Seth and noted the strange auburn tint of the silky hair that fell almost to his shoulders. He was beautiful. Exotic and beautiful, and wildly furious. Count Seth snarled at her. "You're fortunate my team wasn't...
