LITMIR.BIZ

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      To the last weekend at Langton Lodge

       and those who share the memory

      ALEXANDRA SELLERS,

      Canadian born and raised, first came to London as a drama student. She lives near Hampstead Heath with her husband, Nick. They share housekeeping with Monsieur, a beautiful tabby, who came in through the window one day and announced that he was staying.

      Alexandra loves the people, languages, religions and history of Central Asia and the Middle East. She has studied Hebrew and Farsi (Persian) and is currently working on Arabic. She is the author of over twenty-five novels and a cat language textbook.

      What she would miss most on a desert island is shared laughter.

      Readers can write to Alexandra at P.O. Box 9449, London NW3 2WH, U.K.

      Contents

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Chapter Ten

      Chapter Eleven

      Chapter Twelve

      Chapter Thirteen

      Chapter Fourteen

      One

      Winter was taking a last swipe at the mountains. A strong wind had started to blow soon after lunch, and within an hour the beautiful spring weather had developed claws. Now, wearing the anorak and jeans that had been perfectly comfortable this morning, Lana Holding was shivering, and probably it would get worse.

      Static screeched in her ear again. “Nothing,” she reported briefly, turning down the volume on the CB mike and tossing it through the truck window onto the passenger seat. She leaned against the truck and looked down at where Arash was tightening the wheelnuts, his left leg bent, his right leg extended awkwardly away from his body.

      She could have helped with the job, but when, in his usual autocratic way, he had told her not to bother, she hadn’t forced the issue. She was determined to enjoy this trip through the breathtaking Koh-i Shir mountains in spite of his presence and the jinx that seemed to be dogging them. Getting into a heated argument with Arash over changing a wheel wasn’t her idea of a good time.

      She sighed with ill-suppressed anxiety. “They must still be miles behind us.”

      Arash pulled the wrench off the last nut and straightened. “They probably have not left Seebi-Kuchek.”

      Seebi-Kuchek was the village where they had spent the night. Their little convoy had consisted of two trucks when they set off from the palace yesterday, one carrying Arash and Lana, the other two of Arash’s staff, who had come along as bodyguards or advance men or something. Or for all she knew, their role might be just to make sure she and Arash wouldn’t have to be alone.

      If so, that was fine with her. Lana didn’t want to be alone with Arash, either—she didn’t want to be with him at all—but she had been impatient to get into the mountains. This morning, when the other truck had developed minor engine trouble, it was she who had suggested setting off without them.

      “They can catch up with us at lunch time,” she had urged. “The weather is so beautiful. I want to get up into the mountains while the sky is clear, and what if it doesn’t last?”

      She regretted it now, even more so because her instincts had been right. Clouds were building around the magnificent peak of Mount Shir, and soon this road would be just any old desolate stretch of road with no mountain views to entrance the eye.

      Arash had agreed without a word, though she knew he hadn’t liked it. They had dawdled at their lunch break, waiting for the others to catch up, but it didn’t happen, and so they had gone on again. An hour later one front wheel had hit a pothole hard. Replacing the broken wheel, which had unbelievably stubborn bolts, had cost them too much time. She knew they would have to hurry if they were going to reach the village they were aiming for on the other side of the pass today.

      She eyed him now. “Should we go back?”

      “Your choice,” Arash said, moving to set his tools into the back of the truck. He slammed the double doors. “We can go forward or back. The distance is about the same, and each way it is unlikely we will get down out of the pass before nightfall.”

      She eyed him in alarm. “What does that mean?”

      “It means spending the night in the mountains.”

      Lana

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