She blinked her eyes, hoping she had not been too long in the sun to comprehend his meaning. She asked, "You have Lord Michael's father?"
"Have I not said so?" He seemed to take pleasure in boasting of his plans. "We have baited the trap for the green-eyed one you call Lord Michael. You will be the bait that will draw him to us. They say that his magic is very powerful, but my master will conquer him. Sheik Sidi has offered much gold to the man who captures the green-eyed devil."
"I told you I am not his lady. I hardly know him. He will not come for me."
"Do not take me for a fool, and ask no more questions. It is enough that you know that the scorpion will soon be my master's prisoner and suffer the death of a thousand stings."
He released Mallory, and she fell back on the sand, but quickly scrambled to her feet, facing him defiantly. "I'll see you in hell before I help you capture Lord Michael."
"We do not need your help, lady, to lure your lord into our trap."
She turned away from him, feeling sick inside. "He will not be as easily fooled as you think."
"No, but he will be crazed when he learns we have you, and this will make him act rashly, I think."
She closed her eyes and huddled against the rough sheepskin blanket. What the man didn't know was that Michael would not come after her—no one would. She would be lost forever with no one to care. She thought of Michael's father, who had been in the grip of such an unscrupulous man, and feared for him.
* * *
London
Kassidy ripped open the letter from Michael while the rest of the family watched anxiously. In a clear voice, she began to read.
"Dearest Mother,
It is with a light heart that I inform you that Father is alive. He is being held prisoner by a man named Sheik Sidi Ahmed. I have many friends here in Egypt who are willing to help me gain his release. I am well and find much to admire in this land. I ask for your prayers for Father and myself. If God in his infinite mercy sees fit, we shall all soon be reunited. Take care of yourself and do not worry if you do not hear from me for a time.
Your loving son, Michael"
Tears swam in Kassidy's eyes, and Arrian ran to her and took her in her arms. "He's all right, Mother, Father's alive! Soon they will both be home."
"Yes," Kassidy said, her voice trembling with emotion. "Soon they will be home." She moved to the window and pulled aside the draperies, watching the snow drift earthward. "But they will not be home for Christmas."
"Then perhaps for the New Year."
"There is something different about your brother, I can feel it in his words."
"What is different?" Arrian asked puzzled. "And how can you tell that from a letter?"
"I don't know. It's as if he were another person."
Arrian took her mother's hand. "Come, dearest, let us dress warmly and go for a ride. Perhaps we can stop at the church and say a prayer for Father and Michael."
"Yes," Kassidy said in desperation. "Let us do that now." She looked at her daughter, who had been her strength through this ordeal. "I shall also give thanks that I have you, Arrian." She looked at her son-in-law. "And you, Warrick—what would I have done without you?"
* * *
Michael lay prone on a sand dune that gave him a view of the camp where Mallory was being held prisoner. He raised the spyglass to his eyes and scanned the area. "How many did you say there were guarding her?" he asked, glancing at Khaldun.
"Three."
"I see only two. And there is no sign of Mallory."
Khaldun pointed to the small black tent. "I believe she will be within that shelter."
Michael glanced toward the sun that was just going down, and it looked as if the desert sky was on fire. "We should hit them just before morning. There will be only a half-moon tonight, and our black robes will help us blend into the darkness."
Khaldun smiled. "You are thinking more and more like an Arab every day. How will you function when you return to London?"
"I've wondered that myself. I am not the same man I was when I came to Egypt."
"I have noticed this also, my friend. You have a strength and courage that will never leave you. They were always a part of you. You just never had need of them before."
Mallory huddled near the far wall of the tent, watching the two men roll out their blankets upon the sand. She trembled to think what was in their minds when they looked at her with leering smiles.
Each day it grew harder and harder to climb into the saddle. Her wrists were rubbed raw from the ropes that bound her, and her garments were nothing more than filthy rags. Her hair was hopelessly matted, and she doubted any amount of brushing would remove the tangles. She closed her eyes, thinking how luxurious a bath would feel.
If only she could sleep, for in sleep there was forgetful-ness. But the misery of her situation robbed her of rest. At last, she did drift off, but by then it was almost morning.
She was jarred from a deep sleep by a bloodcurdling yell. Had she dreamed it? Surely nothing human could make such a sound. She scrambled to her knees, trying to see into darkness. She heard the men stirring and murmuring among themselves. It was apparent they were as puzzled by the disturbance as she was.
As much as she feared her captors, she feared the unknown more. She huddled in the darkness while Sidi's men grabbed up their rifles and faded into the shadows.
She could hear gunfire, cries of pain, and then silence. Trembling, she waited, too frightened to move. At last a dark figure entered the tent, and she clamped her hand over her mouth to keep from crying out.
"Lady Mallory, are you here?"
She recognized Lord Michael's voice. "Oh, thank God you came. They said you would, but I didn't believe them."
Michael felt her brush against his body, and he led her out of the tent. He quickly cut the ropes from her wrists. It was too dark to see her face, but he knew she must have lived through hell.
"Come," he said, leading her to a horse. He felt her tremble and then stumble, too weak to walk. Lifting her in his arms, he put. her on his horse and climbed on behind her.
Hakeem gripped the arm of the man he'd caught trying to sneak away. The prisoner's eyes rolled in fright. "Who are you?" he asked.
Hakeem smiled as he played on the man's fear. "Better you should ask who found you, even in the desert." He swung the man around to face Michael, who was more concerned with Mallory than Hakeem's captive. "That, you dung heap, is the green-eyed scorpion. Go tell your master that he will soon be coming after him."
"He is a devil!" the man cried. "How could he find us?"
"The desert speaks to him." Hakeem shoved the man to the ground, tossed him a waterskin and ordered him to remove his boots. "You are but one day's walk to the lair of the devil—go and warn him that his time on this earth is over if he does not release the Inglizi."
There was sudden hope in the dark eyes. "You will allow me to live?"
"If you can make it to Caldoia, you may live."
"How can I walk without boots? The sand will burn my feet."
"Then run before the sun comes up. If you die, it will be no great loss."
Mallory fell back against Michael, too weary to think. She closed her eyes and buried her face against his robe.
"You are safe," he said soothingly. "No one will harm you now."
"I want to go home," she whispered. "I want to return to England."
"And so you shall," he assured her.
They were soon joined by the others, and Mallory was surprised to see Khaldun Shemsa, the Egyptian from the ship. "But how did he get here?" she asked Michael.
"It seemed we were in the presence of royalty and didn't know it, Lady Mallory," Michael told her. "Meet Prince Khaldun, my very good friend, and yours, too, it would seem. Without his help, I would never have known where to find you."
She tried to smile, but was too weary. "Thank you," she murmured, instantly falling asleep in Michael's strong arms.
The prince looked up a
t Michael and saw softness in his eyes. Yes, his friend loved the flaming-haired beauty. "It was good that we found her, and none too soon. We are but a day away from Caldoia."
"Yes," Michael agreed, brushing sand from Mallory's face, and holding her gently in his arms. He noticed the bruises on her face, and his grip on her tightened. "I wish I could kill them again. If anyone else tries to harm her, there is nowhere to hide that I won't follow."
Khaldun stared at his friend. Michael did not seem to know that Sheik Hakeem fueled the growing legend of the green-eyed scorpion to frighten the Turks, but he was not so sure that the legend was not becoming true.
Michael was a man like no other, an enemy to fear and a friend to trust. His fame was growing with each day. When the Turk reached Caldoia, his version of what had happened today would only add to Michael's growing reputation.
Chapter 19
The sun rose high in the sky, but still the small party did not slacken its pace. They had to put distance between themselves and Caldoia before Sidi sent soldiers to search for them.
Mallory awoke once, and Michael urged her to go back to sleep. Her eyes drifted shut, for she felt safe at last. She wasn't sure if she was dreaming, but if she was, she hoped never to awaken.
Michael stared down at her, his eyes dark with anger. Her face was red and blistered. Her hair was tangled and knotted. She had certainly lost weight, and he could only guess what she had suffered. She was dressed in an Arab dress, but it was so dirty he could hardly tell its color. He thought of the spirited young girl he'd first met on board the Iberia, and was furious that she had been brought to this state.
"Has she spoken of her captivity?" Khaldun wanted to know.
"No. She's too weary to talk. Have you seen her wrists? They are bloody where the ropes cut into her."
"We can stop when we reach the other side of the mountains. Sidi's men will not find us there since the pass is known only to my people. Then you can doctor Lady Mallory's wrists."
"She needs a long rest."
"Perhaps you should take her back to the palace slowly, but I must ride swiftly to the city and inform my father what has happened. Hakeem will come with me, for we must finish preparation for the battle. I know a place where you can set up camp—there is a spring, and it is on the warm side of the mountain. I will send Fizal back to you with supplies, and he will guide you home when Lady Mallory has rested."
"Yes," Michael agreed reluctantly, thinking of his father. "I will wait with Lady Mallory while you prepare for war." He dropped back so he was even with Hakeem. "I will reach the city as soon as possible. Will you wait for me?"
"Fear not, my friend, my men will not enter Caldoia without you beside them."
Michael looked down at the sleeping woman who had caused him so much trouble. If not for her, he would already be on his way to Caldoia. But what else could he have done? If she hadn't helped him, she would never have become a pawn in this deadly game.
Mallory awoke and sat up quickly. Her eyes were round with fear as she tried to remember where she was. Glancing at her wrists, she saw they were no longer bound, but were bandaged instead. In the back of her mind was a faint memory of being rescued by Lord Michael, but surely it had only been a dream.
No one seemed to be around, but there were three horses hobbled nearby, grazing on the grass that grew from the side of the slope.
She heard footsteps behind her and spun around to see Michael walking toward her. She stood up on wobbly legs. "I didn't dream it—you did find me."
When she would have lost her footing, he steadied her. "Perhaps you should be careful until you regain your strength. You have been through so much."
"How long have I slept?"
"Two days."
"I don't know what those men wanted with me. They kept saying that"—she dropped her voice—"that I was your woman and you would come after me."
"Don't think about them." He moved inside the tent and returned with a bundle, which he handed to her. "Khaldun's wife, Princess Yasmin, sent this to you. It should contain everything you need. Perhaps you would like to bathe in the stream."
"Oh, yes, please." Her eyes widened when she looked up at him. "Are we safe here?"
"Yes." He pointed her in the direction of the stream. "Stay in the shallows, the water is quite swift."
Some of Mallory's old spirit returned when she tossed her head. "I can swim."
"Even so, stay in the shallows. I don't fancy going for a dip in my clothes. That's your role."
She smiled slightly. How different he was from the first time they had met. Then he'd been arrogant, cold, and distant. Now he walked with the assurance of a man destined for greatness, a man of courage, a man who would let nothing or no one stand in the way of what he wanted. His face was changed, older somehow, his stance more certain. He had the proud walk of a veteran warrior and raw energy flowed from him. The black robe fell to the tip of his desert boots. His burnoose covered his hair and was thrown carelessly over his shoulder.
"Have I said thank you for rescuing me?"
Michael's features softened. "I can remember a time you treated my wound and cared for me without questions. I have no need of thanks, Lady Mallory."
"But I will always be grateful for what you did. I can't allow myself to think what would have happened to me if you hadn't found me."
"You should bathe now," he said gently. "When the sun goes down, it grows quite cold here." He turned away, and she watched him enter the tent. With an inward sigh, she walked toward the stream.
Soon Mallory was working the perfumed soap into her hair. How wonderful it felt to submerge herself in the cool water. Reluctantly, she waded ashore and dried herself with a soft towel. She silently thanked Princess Yasmin because she'd thought of everything.
Mallory dressed herself in a soft turquoise robe and belted it at the waist. She then sat on the grassy bank of the stream and brushed her hair. It took her several minutes to work out the tangles, but soon her hair curled about her face and fell spiraling down her back.
Slowly, she walked back to camp and found Michael waiting for her.
He watched Mallory walk toward him in silence. The sun was behind her and reflected off her red hair, making it appear as if it were on fire. How young she looked in the robe that accented, rather than hid, her curved body.
Was it possible that every time he saw her she grew more lovely?
"It feels glorious to be clean," she proclaimed, reaching her arms up as if to embrace the day.
Michael averted his eyes, because he hadn't been around a woman in many weeks, and he didn't like the way he was feeling about Mallory. "Are you hungry?"
"Indeed I am." She sat down on a rug and smiled up at him. "What I wouldn't give for my cousin Phoebe's Yorkshire pudding." She cocked her head to the side in thoughtfulness. "Isn't that strange—I never liked it before now."
Michael picked up the satchel that contained food. "Let's see what bounty Khaldun has sent us."
Mallory watched him lay out the meal. "What is that?" she asked, wrinkling her nose at the dried meat.
"It's quail. We have almonds, dates, and figs. This is a feast."
She smiled. "Let's pretend we are sitting down to a well-cooked English meal, and afterwards we shall walk in the cool evening breeze."
Michael's eyes grew reflective. "I haven't thought of Ravenworth in a long time. In the past, I enjoyed living in London. I find the country appeals to me now. I wonder if I'll ever like the crowded city again?"
She took a bite of the quail which was quite delicious. "I have always preferred the country. Of course, I know so little about London."
"I could have guessed."
"Michael, the men that held me captive referred to you as the green-eyed scorpion. And I'd heard you called that once before. Why is that?"
He shrugged. "Everything is exaggerated here in the desert."
"Perhaps the Egyptians embroider stories because their lives are so uninteresting."
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"If you believe that, you don't know the Egyptians. They have a kind of serenity that we British have never acquired. They laugh easily and will just as easily cry with a friend."
"You like them, don't you?"
"Yes, I do. Prince Khaldun is the best friend I ever had. He would risk his life for me, and has."
"Well, I don't like them. Not after I was abducted by them."
"They weren't Egyptians," he said dryly, "they were Turks. It was Egyptians who rescued you—remember."
"Oh. I didn't mean to sound ungrateful."
Michael leaned back and watched her tear meat off the bone and put it in her mouth.
"I just want to go home, wherever that may be."
"You shall as soon as I can arrange it. It is dangerous for you to remain here. Your father will surely agree with me."
Mallory glanced up at him. "When will you return to England?"
"Not until I find my father."
"Is there any hope of that?"
"I would have been in Caldoia now, if I hadn't had to go after you. It seems you can't stay out of trouble."
She heard the accusation in his voice. "I didn't ask you to come after me. Of course, I'm glad you did. If you hadn't, I would now be imprisoned with your father."
Michael grabbed her arm and made her look at him. "What are you saying? Did they tell you where my father is being held?"
She searched her mind, trying to remember the man's exact words. "Yes, the man who captured me said something about putting me in a cell in the west tower where a great Englishman is being held."
There was urgency in Michael's voice. "Are you certain they said the west tower?"
"Yes, I am. Is that important?"
"I should think so. How do you know they were speaking of my father?"
"Because they said he was the father of the green-eyed scorpion."
Michael jumped to his feet, his eyes shining with hope. "At last I know where to find him!" He pulled her to her feet and hugged her tightly. "You're wonderful! You just told me what I needed to know." He smiled, and her heart stopped beating. "All I have to do now is get into the west tower."
Desert Song (DeWinter's Song 3) Page 15
