Desert Song (DeWinter's Song 3)

by Constance O'Banyon

  "Take Lord Michael's horse and lead the way to your aunt's house," Prince Khaldun commanded. "I will follow. I want to see his father for myself." He turned to his father-in-law. "Hakeem, have someone find my physician and send him to me."

  Khaldun walked beside the litter and was soon joined by an army of men. It was a quiet procession that wound its way through the city. The hero of the day was gravely ill, and no one knew how seriously he was hurt.

  * * *

  Raile was the first to hear the murmur of voices. He flung open the door and saw the procession that stopped in front of the house. He ran forward to the figure on the litter, knowing it would be his son.

  Mallory would have run after him, but she stopped herself just in time. It would appear suspicious if an Arab woman showed too much interest in Lord Michael. Instead, she stood in the doorway, clasping her hands, not knowing if he lived or if he was dead.

  Cairo

  England's consul to Egypt sipped tea with Her Grace, the duchess of Ravenworth, and her son-in-law, Lord Warrick Glencarin. He was very aware of the importance of his guests.

  "Your correspondence was not forthcoming," Kassidy said with veiled anger. "So I decided to come to Egypt myself. Tell me, Lord Geoffrey, what exactly are you doing to locate my husband and my son?"

  "Your Grace, I can assure you that we have searched extensively for His Grace. Even now, we are following every rumor, and there have been many. As for your son, my assistant tells me he warned Lord Michael repeatedly not to go into the desert."

  "It would seem that too many people just disappear around here, Lord Geoffrey. Doesn't it seem odd to you?"

  "Your Grace," Lord Geoffrey said in a shocked voice. "Surely you can't blame me for your son's disappearance. I was in England while he was here in Cairo. I never even met his lordship."

  Lord Warrick said, "You speak with Her Majesty's voice here in Egypt. What do you suggest we do, my lord?"

  The consul tapped his fingers on the arm of the chair. He was more interested in trying to distance himself from blame for whatever had happened to the duke of Ravenworth and his son than in putting forth an answer to Lord Warrick's question. "His Grace should never have gone into the desert without an army escort. If he had asked my advice, he never would have disappeared, and we wouldn't be having this conversation."

  Kassidy's eyes snapped with anger. "I'm sure my husband thought his mission for Queen Victoria would take precedence over any warning you might have given him." She shifted in her chair impatiently. "Tell me everything you know that might help my husband and son, and tell me now."

  The consul cleared his voice. "I have heard only bits of news that keep filtering in from the desert. It seems there was a fearsome war that broke out between several Bedouin tribes and the Turk, Sheik Sidi Ahmed, who was slain. As it turns out, he was the man who was supplying the guns and inciting war. At least that problem is taken care of, Your Grace."

  "Do you think he was the man who captured my husband?" Kassidy asked.

  "The rumors say an Englishman was held captive in Caldoia, which was Sheik Sidi Ahmed's stronghold, although I cannot say for sure."

  "Didn't you investigate?" Warrick asked.

  "It takes a long time to run down every rumor that filters in from the desert. But it was something I was going to explore, eventually," Lord Geoffrey assured him.

  Warrick was losing patience. The man seemed to talk a lot, but say nothing. "The only thing you seem to be sure of, Lord Geoffrey, is that you aren't sure of anything."

  The man coughed and sputtered. "I have done my best with the communications being what they are in this primitive country."

  Kassidy placed a restraining hand on Warrick's arm. "You must understand that we are desperate. I have no intention of leaving Egypt until I have my husband and son with me."

  The consul shifted some papers around. "As it happens, a Bedouin brought me a letter from Lord Michael only three days ago. And it's addressed to you, Your Grace."

  Warrick's eyes gleamed dangerously. "Why didn't you say so in the beginning?" He took the letter from Lord Geoffrey's outstretched hand and gave it to Kassidy.

  She quickly read the scribbled message. She glanced up at Warrick with a strange expression on her face. "Warrick, Michael says he's married!" She turned to the consul. "Are you acquainted with Lady Mallory Stanhope?"

  "I've not had that pleasure. But I do know her parents."

  Kassidy looked shocked. "I've never heard of any of those people. How could Michael have—" She realized she was discussing private matters before an outsider. "Warrick, Michael goes on to say that he believes he knows where Raile is being held and he was leaving to find him."

  "It seems to me," Warrick said, "that our search should begin at the city of Caldoia. I believe you should remain here, Kassidy, and I'll go into the desert."

  Kassidy's jaw set stubbornly. "I'm going with you, Warrick. I haven't come this far to remain in Cairo while my family needs me."

  Warrick had known that Kassidy would insist on going with him. "Very well," he relented. "We will leave first thing in the morning. I'll see to what supplies we'll need."

  "I'll send a company of soldiers with you," the consul said, glad that he could offer some assistance. "And you will need servants. I can provide you with some that you can trust."

  Kassidy stood, holding her hand out to Lord Geoffrey. "I'll take the escort, but we have our own servants. You will forgive me if I was ungracious. You see, we are a close family, and when one of us is in trouble, the others rally around."

  "I don't suppose I can talk you out of going?" Lord Geoffrey asked.

  "No. I want my family back. Warrick and I won't stop until we are all reunited."

  Warrick glanced at his mother-in-law and smiled. "You had better listen to her, your lordship—we all do."

  Chapter 27

  Mallory hovered near the bedroom where Michael had been carried, knowing she could not enter as the Arab woman she pretended to be.

  The duke, Prince Khaldun, and Fizal stood near the bed, with worried expression on their faces.

  "Who has done this monstrous thing to my friend?" the prince inquired in anger.

  "Sidi," Raile replied, worriedly watching his son. "But he paid with his life. Do you know of a doctor that can treat him?"

  Khaldun looked at Michael's father, and saw the image of the son in his face. "My physician will arrive as soon as he has been located. I assume he is with my wounded."

  Mallory made certain her veil was in place before she boldly entered the room. Michael needed attention now, and she would help him no matter what anyone thought.

  She gasped when she saw Michael. He was lying on his stomach, and the back of his shirt was a bloody mess. She wanted to run to him, to fall on her knees to him and help sooth his pain, but she dared not.

  "Who are you?" Prince Khaldun asked Mallory, grabbing her hand and holding her firm. "Tell me at once— what do you want in this room?"

  "Please, Highness," Fizal said quickly, drawing the prince's attention. "She is known to me and would be a good nurse for the lord."

  "I trust her with my son, she is the one who saved his life," Raile said.

  Khaldun studied the draped woman. "Is it not against your religion to help with a man who is not of your family?"

  Again Fizal answered for her. "Highness, she is not of the Islamic faith."

  The prince nodded. "Then I will permit her help."

  "We can't wait for your doctor," Raile said grimly. "We will need water to soak the shirt so it won't stick to the skin. Fizal, please ask the woman to bring us these things."

  Mallory quickly disappeared into the small kitchen. Her hands were trembling so much that she had to clench them together to steady them.

  Fizal appeared beside her. "Lady, why do you not tell them who you are? Then you can be with your husband without being questioned."

  She picked up an empty jug and handed another to Fizal. They both moved out
the door, and had reached the well before she answered.

  "No, they must not know who I am. But I fear they will soon begin to question you about Lady Mallory, since you were supposed to escort me to Cairo."

  She dipped the jug in the water, handed it to Fizal, and then filled another before she reached in her pocket and handed a letter to him. "Give this to Lord Michael, and it will explain everything."

  Fizal, as always, was perceptive. "Lady, you are going away, are you not?"

  "Yes. As soon as I know that my husband is in no danger."

  "But, lady—"

  "We must hurry with this water. I still have to heat it."

  Fizal took both jugs and walked beside her. "Where will you go?"

  "To Cairo, and then to England. You will not tell Lord Michael about me. You promised you would keep my secret."

  "I will not break my word." He glanced up to see a man dismount before the house. "Look, it is Sheik Hakeem and the physician. Now the lord will have help."

  * * *

  It was in the early part of the morning, when the rest of the house slept, that Mallory sat beside Michael's bed holding his hand. His back had been cleaned and healing ointment applied. The physician had decided it would be best to leave the back exposed so it would heal faster.

  It was oppressively hot, and since everyone else was in bed, Mallory pushed her veil aside.

  Michael slept fretfully, often groaning in pain. At those times, she'd wet his lips with a damp cloth and hold his hand, talking in a soft voice until the restlessness passed.

  Once he became delirious and began to talk in broken sentences. "She warned me . . . the Gypsy. Betrayal . . . friendship. I will . . . not marry . . . no . . . Samantha."

  Mallory pressed her hand on his cheek. "Sleep," she said soothingly, not wanting to hear any more about some woman in England that he was to have married. "I will not leave you, so you can sleep."

  "Must find my father . . ." He tried to move, but he winced in pain. "I will not tell, you Turkish devil. Kill me . . . I will not talk."

  * * *

  Raile was unable to sleep, so he dressed, thinking he would sit with Michael. He pushed the curtain aside and was about to enter the small room when he paused, stunned by what he saw. The woman who sat beside his son was not the Arab that she would have everyone believe. Her face was lovely in the soft candlelight. Shimmering red hair spilled about her shoulders and he could see tears glistening on her cheeks.

  Raile watched her take Michael's hand and raise it to her lips. "Sleep, Michael, you are safe now. You will be better soon, my dearest. You will be on your way to England, and all your troubles will be over."

  Raile lowered the curtain and stepped back into the shadows, where he could still observe her without being seen. Now he understood why the woman had shot Sidi to save Michael's life. He knew the red-haired beauty was Michael's wife, Mallory. But why was she keeping her identity a secret?

  Raile listened to her speak soothingly to his son, and he could see why Michael had married her, for there was kindness and compassion in her words. He saw love shining in her eyes when she looked at his son. She must have her reasons for hiding behind that veil, and he would not betray her.

  Quietly, he returned to his bed. Michael was in capable hands.

  * * *

  Kassidy and Warrick rode into Caldoia, escorted by twelve British soldiers. There was still evidence that there had been a fierce battle in the city. Burned-out buildings stood like ghostly reminders of the conflict, and the streets were scattered with debris. There was a nervousness in the air.

  A mass of people crowded the bazaar as residents clambered for the food that had just arrived by caravan.

  Warrick called a halt and asked questions of several merchants, until he found one who spoke English. He was told where he could find the Englishmen.

  Kassidy had to curb her impatience to race her horse through the crowded streets. She didn't even know if the Englishmen would be her husband and son—she didn't even know if either of them were alive. She held her back straight and gripped the reins. In only moments, she would know their fate.

  * * *

  Michael was well enough to sit up, and Raile watched while the veiled woman fed him. Hearing the sound of several riders, Raile looked out the small arched window, expecting to see Khaldun's men.

  "That's strange," he commented, turning to Michael, "It's British soldiers. I'll just go and see what they want. They may be here to escort us back to Cairo. No, wait! My God, it's your mother, Michael!"

  Warrick placed his hands about his mother-in-law's waist and lifted her to the ground. "Kassidy, don't get your hopes up. These men may be strangers."

  "I—" The door to the small house was flung open, and Kassidy and Raile stared at each other for a long moment. Then Kassidy ran to him, with tears running down her face. "Raile, oh, Raile!"

  He caught her in his arms, holding her tightly against him. "Kassidy," he whispered, "my dearest, how did you know I needed you?"

  She raised her head, not caring that they were the object of many curious glances. "I couldn't stay one more day in London, not knowing if you were alive or dead." She touched his face lovingly. "Oh, dearest, you look tired. What has happened to you?"

  "It's a long story, Kassidy."

  "Then we will speak of it later. Everything will be all right now that we are together."

  "There were many times in the past months when I thought I'd never see you again."

  By now, Warrick had joined them. "It's good to see you, Raile," he said with genuine affection in his voice.

  Raile gripped Warrick's hand and smiled. "I understand Arrian has given me another grandchild."

  "Yes. I'm the proud father of a beautiful little girl named Kassidy. Arrian wanted to come with us, but the doctor forbade it."

  Raile eyes softened as he looked at his wife. "It wouldn't surprise me if Aunt Mary came riding up on a camel."

  "Raile," Kassidy said, her brow furrowed in a frown, "why isn't Michael here?"

  There was a heavy silence as Raile looked into worried green eyes. "He's in the house, Kassidy."

  When she would have rushed past him, he caught her arm. "Before you go in, I want to prepare you."

  Her face drained of color. "What's wrong with my son?"

  "The man who held us prisoner used a whip on him.

  He was badly hurt. You must gather your courage before you see him."

  Kassidy buried her face against Raile's chest. "What a monster!" She raised her eyes to his, her lips trembling. "How badly is he hurt?"

  "He will heal in time, but he will need a lot of care. He's in great pain, and will be for some time."

  "I'm ready now, Raile. Take me to Michael."

  "Not before I explain some things about him. You will be so proud of him, Kassidy. It seems your son is something of a hero to these people."

  * * *

  Michael frowned at the veiled woman and pushed the spoon away. "I don't want any more." He ran his hand through his tousled hair. "I haven't shaved, and I don't want my mother to see me looking like this."

  Mallory took the bowl and was about to leave, when Kassidy burst into the room. She brushed past Mallory to get to her son.

  Dropping on the bed beside him, Kassidy took Michael's face in her hands.

  "Oh, Michael, my son, I'm here, and I'll take care of you now."

  His hand moved about her shoulders. For a moment, he was like the young boy who had needed his mother, but then Kassidy saw a transformation. There was about him an air of suffering, and of knowledge.

  "My dearest son, I've come to take you home."

  Mallory saw that the duchess had the same green eyes as Michael, and it was apparent that there was a great love between the mother and son.

  When the duke entered the room, he was accompanied by a stranger, whom Michael was glad to see. It soon became clear that the man was Michael's brother-in-law, Warrick.

  As the DeWinter fa
mily gathered around Michael, Mallory realized that she was no longer needed. His mother would take care of Michael now. It was time for her to leave. She would go in search of Fizal so that he could escort her to Cairo.

  * * *

  Michael was drifting in a dreamlike sleep. He was feverish, and in his dream, he felt Mallory put her cool hand on his brow and speak to him in her soft voice. A great fog seemed to swirl between them, and she slipped away. He called to her, but she didn't answer. He reached for her, but she was not there.

  "Lord," Fizal called from the doorway.

  Michael's eyes opened, and he realized he'd been dreaming. But he could have sworn that Mallory had been with him several times since he'd been ill. How could a dream seem so real?

  "Lord," Fizal called again.

  Since Michael still had to lie on his stomach, he couldn't see the door. "Come in," he said, "and sit in this chair so I can see you."

  Fizal sat on the edge of the chair, his dark eyes cast downward, lest the lord be able to read the deception in his eyes. "I have this from your lady," he said, handing Michael the letter Mallory had given him.

  Michael would read it later, when he was alone. "I'm glad to have this time to talk to you. I have heard that Prince Khaldun has made you master of his elite guard, and that he's given you your own house."

  Fizal grinned. "Yes, lord. It was because you praised me to him that he so rewarded me."

  "You deserve all that you get, and more. I would also like to do something special for the woman who saved my life. Perhaps you could tell me what she would like."

  Again Fizal cast his eyes down. "She will take nothing from you, lord. She will be going away today."

  "All the same, I'd like to do something for her. I'll ask my mother, she'll find an appropriate gift to give an Arab woman."

  "Lord," Fizal said, trying to turn the conversation, "it was a fortunate day for my family when you came to Egypt. My cousin, Jabl, has also been honored. He will remain here in Caldoia as liaison between Caldoia and Kamar Ginena. My aunt and uncle are to be given a larger house and a pension for the rest of their days."

  "Even that is not enough, Fizal. How do you repay someone who saved your life and the life of your father, at the risk of his own? It is I who am indebted to your family. Most of all, I'd like to tell Jabl's sister how much I admire her, and to express my gratitude to her for nursing me while I was so ill."