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For the first time, Ramses saw the woman's eyes. They were as blue as sapphires, as blue as his own.

The madman snarled, "Unhand me, you black--"

She slammed the side of his head into the wall.

The plaster dented.

He collapsed in a lifeless heap.

From behind her appeared two men, also black skinned, and blue eyed, both impeccably dressed.

"Remove him," she said. "Bind him if need be."

Silently, the men lifted the unconscious body. Together, they carried it away as if it were a rolled-up rug, offering Ramses polite nods as they passed. They headed in the opposite direction of the front hallway. Away from the party, away from the clamor of guests outside.

And then he was alone with her, this mysterious woman who had appeared out of nowhere, it seemed, who closed the distance between them with a warm and patient smile, as if the ugly business in this hallway were merely an inconvenience.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"Find your fiancee. They are preparing the champagne toast. You must not drink. Either of you. You understand me? You must not drink. I will take care of this one."

He'd forgotten about her, the golden-haired woman with Cleopatra's eyes, whose sudden disappearance had lured him into this little mess.

She was unconscious, slumped on the washroom floor.

"Go, Ramses the Great," said the black woman with the fiery blue eyes.

"Who are you and what have you done?" he asked.

"Only those who have come to do you harm will be harmed. Provided you and Miss Stratford do not drink the champagne. Do as I say. Find your fiancee. Now."

As if she had no doubt he would follow her command, she sank to her knees and turned her attention to the sleeping beauty on the bathroom floor. She drew her great shawl from around her back and wrapped the comatose woman's body on it. Then, without the slightest struggle, she picked up the golden-haired woman with both arms. An immortal, this powerful, black-skinned woman. There was no doubt in his mind. But...

The champagne. Do not drink the champagne...

He ran.

25

Julie ran.

She spotted Ramses on the stone terrace. Was he looking for her?

Yes!

When he saw her racing across the vast expanse of green on the other side of the hedge, he rushed down the steps, weaving between waiters passing out flutes of bubbling champagne to all the guests.

When he reached her, she fell against him, not just to seek comfort, but because it would allow her to whisper everything she'd seen. The wall of hedge concealed them from the party, but they were close enough that frightened talk might be overheard.

"She's here," Julie rasped. "Cleopatra. I took her to the temple to keep her away from Alex. She is sick. Something ails her. She thinks more of the elixir will cure it. She tried to explain, but there was some sort of trap. Ramses, the floor itself, it opened and swallowed her, and I could hear movement in the tunnel below. Someone took her, Ramses."

"We must end this gathering at once," Ramses said. "And we must do so without creating a panic."

"What is happening, Ramses?"

Memory struck. A memory only moments old. That strange, brittle woman, Jeneva Worth, and her husband, Callum, asking for a tour, not just of the grounds, but of the very temple from which Cleopatra had just been abducted.

"Julie, come with me. I will explain everything as I--"