When Isabella Winslow’s archeologist husband died under mysterious and embarrassing circumstances, she became obsessed with finding out what had happened in the tomb he’d visited last. Now she’s trekked across the sands only to find the tomb has already been opened by sexy American raider Jake Turner. When the tomb collapses and their friends go missing, the two must figure out the sensual curse of the tomb, even as they succumb over and over to the erotic desires that draw them together. But is their love a trick of the curse, or could it last for all time?

"One of the best collections of Secrets..." -- Donna from Romance Reviews Magazine

"Secrets, Volume 11 will not disappoint" -- Marilyn Heyman, The Road to Romance. Read the full review

Excerpt

Egypt, 1897

Isabella Winslow fingered the artifact in her bag and smiled at her Egyptian maid. “This is it, Anya. This is the place.”

Anya shoved a lock of coal black hair from her shoulder and looked around the barren desert nervously. She’d made it no secret that she didn’t want to leave the safety of Cairo for the wilds of the sand dunes and the unknown adventures of tomb raiding. Or that it was inappropriate for two unmarried ladies to be in the unescorted company of their handsome Egyptian guide.

"Yes, ma’am. This does seem to be the place described on your late husband’s map, but are you sure we have to go inside Merytsat’s tomb?”

 Anya glanced at their guide out of the corner of her narrowed eyes. He was standing a few feet away from them at the top of the stone steps that lead to the round tomb door. His arms were folded in waiting, his long silky hair tied back from his face to reveal a black tribal tattoo that curled around the back of his neck. His brown eyes were always focused, though. Mostly on Isabella’s maid.

Anya rung her hands as her eyes darted away from his pointed stare. “Surai has told me stories about the curses placed on these ancient burial grounds. And I’ve heard the tales about English archeologists who haven’t made it home after their adventures in dark places.”

Isabella laughed at the superstitious drivel. “Surai only tells those stories to make you sit closer to him by the fire.” Though the maid tried to deny it, Isabella had seen the spark between her two servants. It was one she chose not to discourage. She had too many other things on her mind. “And if we don’t go inside, we’ll never finish Hiram’s work. Or find out exactly what drove him to the way he behaved after he returned from the dig in this…” She looked around at the two worn, rock statues that guarded the tomb entrance. Two half naked women who brandished sharpened spears and wore fox headpieces. “This strange place.”

 Anya’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t think you need to sneak away from polite society and come searching tombs to find out why a man would stray from his wife. Or die in bed with two Egyptian whores.”

 Isabella turned her head away from the ugly facts. Facts she’d tried to soften with all her might since that horrible night so many months before, but to no avail.

“That’s enough, Anya,” she snapped. She turned away from her friend and switched from English to Egyptian to address their male companion. “Surai, open the tomb door and lead the way inside.”

He nodded and descended the steps into a shallow, sandy pit where a thick door awaited. The sand storms had long ago turned the identifying hieroglyphics to mere scratches, but the outline of the door was still clear. He crouched to his haunches to run tanned fingers around the edge in order find the best place to start his work prying the door open.

They’d been lucky Hiram had visited here first. He’d not only mapped their journey to the tomb, but his team had done much of the excavation of the site. Still, she knew the door had been resealed when Hiram departed and she expected the three of them might have to stand in the blazing sun and swirling sands for a while before their guide managed to pry it open. But to Isabella’s surprise, the covering opened with ease. As if the gods wanted her to come there, to find the answers she’d sought since she’d been widowed.

"Madam,” Surai whispered in his native tongue. “The door is already open.”

 "This is not a good idea, mistress,” Anya said as she clasped Isabella’s arm with both trembling hands. “There is something foul about the tomb being open. Anyone and anything could await us inside.”

Isabella shared her maid’s fear, but shook off her feelings. This wasn’t the time for Victorian propriety or to have the vapors. She needed to go inside. Something called her to enter. And it was something she refused to deny.

“Light the lanterns,” she ordered as she shook Anya off. She spoke with far more bravado than she felt. “If you two are afraid, then I shall lead the way.”

Surai opened his mouth as if to protest but Isabella gave him the icy expression her mother had always utilized with servants in London and he grew quiet. After a few moments of shuffling, he handed her a glowing torch and let her take the first few steps into the tomb of Merytsat.

The air was hot and dry, dusty from millenniums of being shut up. As far as she knew, only her husband had entered this place with his men since it had been sealed thousands of years before. It was untouched besides by Hiram’s hands. The idea gave Isabella a shiver. The last man who had entered here was now dead.

With slow steps, she made her way inside. The low glow of the torch allowed her to see the intricate carvings on the walls. Prayers for the dead.

She had gone into the dim tomb about a hundred yards when a sound made her stop in her tracks. Had that been a laugh? And not just any laugh, but the sultry laugh of a woman? No. She had to be imagining things. No one should be in this place but her and her servants. No one else even knew it existed.

When only silence met her waiting ears, Isabella took another step. The dim corridor before her split in two directions and she hesitated as she lifted the light to peer down each one. Which way to go? Which way had Hiram gone?

 “Who the hell are you?”

With a start, Isabella pivoted and found herself looking down the short barrel of a pistol. It was being aimed at her by the most handsome man she’d ever seen. He had tousled brown hair and stubble that indicated he hadn’t shaved for at least two days. His eyes glittered in the torchlight, reflecting back intense blue fire that almost had her turning away. Only she found she couldn’t. She was too drawn in, despite the threat he posed.

Swallowing, she managed to find her voice. “Who the hell am I?” she asked. “I think a better question is who the hell are you?”

“I’m the guy who’s laying claim to this place, lady,” he said in a decidedly American drawl.  He inched the gun away from her face, though he didn’t holster it as he shot a side-glance toward Surai.

“Laying claim?” she repeated as shock and anger wiped away some of the sharp desire she’d felt when she first met this stranger’s gaze. “You have no right, sir. My husband found this tomb and it is rightfully his to harvest its findings for the British Museum.”

The man motioned his head toward Surai, who had taken up a battle stance in front of Anya. He looked every inch the ancient warrior. “That your husband?”

She blinked. “No. My husband is-well, he’s dead.”

The blue eyes widened and then the man had the audacity to laugh. And not a chuckle, either, but a low belly laugh that seemed to fill and shake the narrow corridor in which they stood. 

“And just what is funny about that, sir?” she asked with as much dignity as she could muster when her cheeks were flaming with a blush.

“If your husband is dead, then he has no claim to anything in this world.” The man’s intense gaze lingered on her for a long moment. “Anything at all.”

The knot that had closed Isabella’s throat when she’d first seen this rude stranger now filled it again. She knew a man’s desire when she saw it, and it was clear in every part of the unknown outsider before her. Worse was that her nipples hardened in answer to his pointed stare and her thighs clenched.

Obviously she’d been too long without a man’s touch if she was considering this… this lout to be an object of lust.

“You still haven’t told me your name,” she said coolly.

He grinned as another man appeared from the narrow corridor behind him. Now the odds were worse for her party, though she strangely felt no fear. She wasn’t sure why, but she knew without a doubt that these men wouldn’t hurt her or her servants. 

“Jake Turner at your service, my British lady.” He jerked his head toward his friend. In the lamplight she could see he had blonde hair and coal gray eyes. Eyes that were focused not on her, but behind her at Anya and Surai. “And this is my partner is crime, Rafe Christian.”

“Very nice.” She thinned her lips to a frown. “Now Mr. Turner, Mr. Christian, I’m going to have to ask you again to leave. This tomb is now under the jurisdiction of the British Museum. Marauders are not allowed.”

Turner gave his partner a look before let out another low laugh. This one raked over her senses and made her ever more aware of her reacting body. What was wrong with her? It wasn’t like she’d never seen a handsome man before. Or heard a deep, throaty chuckle like his. But her body was behaving like a sex-starved wanton. She hadn’t been so wet in… well… ever.

“Are you a representative of the British Museum now?” he asked. He leaned closer and the heat of his minty breath warmed her skin. “Because I’d like to see your papers.”

She opened her mouth in outrage, but he held up a hand to silence her. “I’m sorry, lady, but this tomb is free to the public now. And my friend and I have our own plans for it. You and your crew are certainly welcome to whatever spoils it is you’re looking for. I’m sure there’s more than enough booty to go around.”

He turned to walk away, but she caught his arm. Instantly heat and electricity shot between them. With a gasp, she yanked her hand away and he reeled back a few steps as if he’d felt the same reaction.

She struggled for equilibrium. “You mean to raid the tomb?”

“That’s what treasure hunters do,” he said, though his eyes moved over her again. “We ravage and pillage.”

She shut her eyes as an image of this man ravaging her entered her mind. His broad shoulders gleaming in the pale lamplight.  Her watching as he entered her inch by inch. Though she shook the fantasy away, she couldn’t pretend that a telltale tingle hadn’t begun between her heated thighs.

“You know.” He stepped closer. “You never told me your name.”

She stiffened at the reduced proximity between them. He was invading her personal space, trying to intimidate her with his presence. It was working, too, though she’d be damned if he ever knew that.

She straightened her spine and used her most proper and refined tone. “My name is Isabella Winslow. My husband was the late archeologist-”

“Hiram Winslow.”

She jerked back in surprise. Her husband’s death had been chronicled in the newspapers, but she was still stunned that a man like this would know Hiram’s name.

Jake’s eyes narrowed. “I’d heard of the circumstances of his death. I am sorry, Mrs. Winslow. But that doesn’t change the fact that I have no idea if you really hold claim to this tomb. As far as I’m concerned we have equal right to the spoils here. So why don’t we just try to stay out of each other’s way.”

“Mr. Turner!” she cried in outrage.

“Mistress,” Anya snapped from behind her. “The walls!”

Isabella turned around. She’d been so caught up in arguing with the handsome tomb raider she hadn’t noticed that the corridor was shaking. 

“Oh my God!” she cried out as she stumbled back. She came in hard contact with Jake Turner’s solid chest.

Clasping her arm, he began to drag her through the dim hallways away from the entrance. She pulled back against him, but he refused to let her go as he ran. “The tomb isn’t stable.  We must get closer to the center!”

“But the door!” she screamed as dust and years of cobwebs clouded her eyes and blocked her throat.

“It’s the most unstable place of all!” he insisted just as a loud, ugly crash echoed through the passageways around them. Throwing all his weight on top of her, Jake hurtled Isabella to the floor and covered her with his body as a hail of stones and dirt settled around and on top of them.

Followed by a dark and sinister silence... 

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