Graham Tristan had been tormented too long. For years he had lived in fear. He was physically strong: during his childhood exile, he had ridden with the Khamsin — Egyptian Warriors of the Wind. He had learned their code, been called The Panther. But still he feared. And there was a new face that haunted his dreams. It was the face of a woman.

Red hair, the color of blood. Green eyes, the color of emeralds. And that face, that body — the memory threatened to consume him. True, he was a dangerous man, accepted back to the ton despite his upbringing. But there were those who dared oppose him, and in certain ways he remained untried. In his dreams, this woman threatened all he sought to protect, all he thought to hide. She was more perilous even than the ancient treasure that would draw him back to Egypt, back to the shifting sands where he’d been raised: This woman would uncover his heart.