Read The Edge of Dawn for Free Online

doe-eyed lovelies now working their hands slowly up and down the backs of his thighs and legs would leave his senses dulled and lazy.
    He also had the curvy Ms. Jordan to keep an eye on. He wondered what it would be like to have her hands giving him this massage. He imagined her hands would be firm yet soft. In his mind’s eye he could feel the way she’d knead, then stroke him. The arousal resulting from that fantasy made him adjust his position again. He had no intentions of turning the fantasy into reality, though. Had he met her under different circumstances he might not mind exploring the intricacies of Narice Jordan, but this was a job and he took his work seriously. She was hard not to think about, however. The question she’d asked The Majesty about choices hadn’t really surprised him. He already knew that Narice Jordan was no shrinking violet. For a woman who’d been kidnapped twice last night, she’d shown steel beneath all that designer wear. On the other hand, The Majesty’s answer to Narice’s question hadn’t been a surprise either. Of course, he wasn’t going to allow anyone to take Narice’s life, but The Majesty had been correct about the ruthlessness of the other side. If Narice were to fall into their hands, they’d get the information they were after, then kill her.
    So, as tired as he was, Saint was about to embark on another adventure, this time with a curvy headmistress he had no business fantasizing about.
    Â 
    Dressed in a traditional dress that Narice thought looked very much like a sari, she followed Fulani to the room where the audience would be held. The dresswas drab brown, but Narice could smell the rich scents of the oils and perfumes the women had worked into her skin. They’d covered her hair with a long cotton scarf the same shade of the dress. Fulani had even supplied Narice with a pair of soft black shoes. Narice looked like a wren on the outside but beneath her clothing, all the pampering and oiling made her feel like a Bird of Paradise.
    Narice saw that The Majesty, and the hawk-faced escort were already seated on the brocaded pillows that covered the floor of the large room. Fulani exited silently. Beside The Majesty was a small table. On it sat a sparkling white china tea service. Saint was there too, wearing his dark glasses and dressed in a simple brown tunic and a matching pair of loose-fitting trousers. Narice noted his brown socks as she sat on one of the pillows near him. She wondered what he and The Majesty had talked about.
    The Majesty said, “Ah, Ms. Jordan, you honor us by wearing the cha so elegantly.”
    Narice knew from talking with Fulani that cha was the name of the dress she had on. Fulani also told Narice that The Majesty never allowed herself to be upstaged by another woman in any way, thus the reason Narice had been given the simple brown gown. The Majesty on the other hand was grandly dressed in a cha of embroidered purple silk that on close inspection appeared shiny from age and wear.
    The Majesty then introduced the man at her side.
    â€œMs. Jordan, this is my prime minister. He is named Farouk.”
    Narice inclined her head his way. She remembered the stormy look he’d given her earlier. “Pleased to meet you,” she said.
    He nodded back. “Welcome, Ms. Jordan.”
    The Majesty said, “Now, we will have tea and discuss our problem.”
    She had a servant pour everyone a cup and then she asked, “Ms. Jordan, let me begin by telling you about the Eye and how it ties to my country, Nagal. The Eye originally belonged to Makeda, the woman the Old Testament calls the Queen of Sheba.”
    Narice was surprised by that and wondered how The Majesty knew Sheba’s given name.
    The Majesty was continuing, “When Makeda journeyed to King Solomon’s court, she brought him many gifts. One of which was a brilliant blue diamond we now call the Eye of Sheba.”
    The