by Sarah Hegger
Alya froze. Her mind rejected what she had just heard.
Ugo motioned his guards. “Throw them out.”
Henry stepped in front of her. Voice vibrating menace, he said, “Do not lay a finger on her.”
The guards glanced at Ugo uncertainly.
“We will leave,” Henry said. “But touch Lady Alya and House D’Onofrio will lose its scion.”
Surging to his feet, Ugo went red and spittle flew. “Get out. And take that filthy girl with you.”
Tense and alert, Newt stood beside Henry.
Bahir tugged her away.
Her limp legs did not feel as if they would hold her. Nobody had ever spoken to her thus. She still could not believe they had. It made her sick to her stomach. Part of her wanted to protest her innocence, another to upbraid him for his rudeness.
With Bahir half carrying her, Alya somehow made it to the street again.
Swords at the ready Henry and Newt flanked them.
The door rattled shut.
Alya collapsed.
Bahir caught her. “Do not listen to them, habibti. Their ignorance marks them as not worthy of you.”
“Let’s move.” Henry drew his sword. “Before he finds his ballocks and comes after us.”
“Can you run?” Frowning, Bahir searched her face.
She could and she would. Alya nodded, and they set off.
As they ran through it, the city blurred for Alya in her Bahir, Newt, and Henry cocoon.
Ugo’s words kept clattering around her mind. The contempt on his face. How could anybody hate her that much? Especially a person who knew her not at all. He had called her dirty, a heathen.
People scattered in front of them. Faces swung to stare.
The numbness wore off, and suddenly she wanted to grab Henry’s sword and stab Ugo’s sneer off his face. Run the blade across his scornful expression. He had no right to treat her so, speak to her in such a manner.
A man veered into Henry’s path.
Henry punched their way clear.
They reached the docks and barreled straight through the throngs. Henry used shouts, fists and his sword hilt to clear the path before her.
Sword catching sunlight, Bahir breathed down her neck.
Newt roved around them, providing extra menace.
Her legs shook as they bustled her up the gangplank and onto the boat.
Henry stepped away from her and drove his fist into the mast. “Whoreson!”
“Be easy.” Bahir stepped between Henry and the mast. “You will break your hand, and he will still be a pig wallowing in his own filth.”
Tense enough to snap Henry scowled at him. Then he blew out a long breath and nodded. His gaze swung to her. “Are you all right?”
Alya struggled to answer because nay she was not all right. She wanted to smash something. She wished she had never gone to Ugo at all. And now she was well and truly alone in the world. Barring Bahir, she had nobody.
Her legs gave way and she sank onto a coiled rope. “What will I do now?”
Chapter 10
Henry propped his shoulder on the mast. On the docks, the day folk had given way to the darker, more sinister souls who crawled through the night. Whores, drunkards, and smugglers used the dark shadows to their advantage.
Cool night breeze rustled at his back, carrying with it the tang of the sea. The smell of his childhood. Mighty Anglesea, perched on an isthmus, the tide had provided his lullaby, the cries of the gulls borne his childish wishes up to a God he had still believed in.
Newt appeared next to him. “Got aught I need to do. I will return.”
Henry nodded. He’d known Newt long enough to know when not to ask questions. Newt had been wearing that grim face since they returned from Ugo’s. He hoped whatever Newt had planned involved the removal of Ugo’s innards. What a miserable cur. God’s balls. His sword hand still itched with the need to run the sod through.
Bahir came on deck and leaned his shoulder on the other side of the mast. He folded his arms and stared up at the scattered stars. “What now, English?”
A question that had nagged Henry since they returned to the boat. “I made a vow to protect her.”
“As did I.” Bahir rubbed his nape.
“Any ideas?”
A stray dog sniffed at the boat’s dock lines. He raised his leg and pissed on them.
His sentiment on the day exactly. Henry almost chuckled. “Well.” He straightened. “We have a boat and men to sail her.”
Bahir grunted. “Men who are now well aware of what lies in the hold.”
A good point. “Do you think they will try anything?”
“Who can be sure?” Bahir shrugged. “Who can truly know what drives any man?”
“It will be the point of my steel if they try.”
Bahir chuckled. “English, how did you manage to last as a slave for as long as you did?”
“Shame.” The answer came from his heart. So many layers of shame that he could not penetrate.
“Ah.” With a wry smile, Bahir nodded. “I know it well. Shame creeps into a man’s soul and rusts it until he can no longer remember who he was.”
“You too?”
“English.” Bahir huffed. “They captured me as a boy, cut off my manhood and threw me amongst women to guard them. Then, when I became troublesome they put me to market like a gelding. What do you think?”
Verily, Bahir had felt the bitter burn through his vitals. These three years working beneath the man and hating him and only now Henry saw the similarities. An idea came to him and he blurted it. “You could come with me.”
“Eh?” Bahir gaped.
“To England.” As the idea bloomed in his mind, it made a ridiculous amount of sense. So much sense that he should have considered it before exposing Alya to her pox-souled uncle. “You and Alya could return with me to Anglesea.”
“English.” Bahir shook his head. “You have seen how people react toward us. You propose to arrive at your home with a big, black man and a lady from a land your people believe to be heathen.”
“You do not know my people.” Even as he said it, Henry pictured the Anglesea folk. Most born and raised between the sea and the shadow of the mighty keep, and had never been further than Calder. Still, the offer hovered out there now. “You know not how they think or how they would treat you.”
Bahir stared at him, still as the mast. Then he dipped his head. “You are right, English. The offer is generous.”
“I make the offer to Alya,” Henry said. “You, I would toss over the side into the sea.”
Bahir’s teeth flashed white as he threw back his head and guffawed. “Ah, English.” He shook his head. “I believe you would try.”
Bahir certainly knew how to take an insult. Henry’s answering smile surprised himself. “You have nowhere to go with her. No place you will not meet with hostility. If you came with me, you would be safe.”
“Why would you do this?”
Henry had no true answer, so he shrugged. “I made a vow to her father and I would stand by that.”
Staring out to sea, Bahir seemed to consider the notion. “What then, English?”
“Eh?” Henry hadn’t really thought the plan through.
“We come with you to your home.” Turning, Bahir folded his arms. “And stay for how long? A month? A day? Long enough for your people to chase the infidel away?”
“I…” The offer had been impulsive and Bahir picked it apart with the ease it deserved.
“Nay.” Rubbing his hand over his head, Bahir sighed. “I needs find a more permanent solution for her. Someplace she will be safe.”
An idea popped into Henry’s mind, so audacious he shied from examining it closer. “She could marry me.”
“Eh.” Bahir choked.
“Alya needs to come to England as my bride.” Perhaps the idea was not so insane. He must marry eventually, and why not a girl of his own
choosing? This girl, the one who fired his imagination, fed his starving soul and coursed like raw flame through his blood. The more he thought on it, the more sense he made. He could go home and marry a stranger or marry a woman he desired right down to his marrow. And Alya needed a home, a safe place. Their needs fit together like a lock and a key.
Clearly Bahir would take more convincing as he gaped at Henry. “Are you mad?”
“Nay.” He stepped closer to Bahir and lowered his voice. “Married to me she has the protection of my name. It will assure her welcome at Anglesea. As my wife, she will no longer be foreign or an infidel.”
Bahir grabbed his tunic front in his meaty fist. “She was never those things.”
Henry shoved him back. If they could remain civil for long enough, he might get to explain his reasoning to the stubborn cur. “You have no right to make this decision for her. Think about it. And at least do Alya the courtesy of presenting it to her.”
“Never.” Bahir sneered.
“What are you never going to tell me?” Alya said from behind them.
Bahir scowled and crossed his arms. “Nothing.”
His first proposal and he hadn’t ever imagined it would take place this way. “We were talking about what you were going to do now.”
“English.” Bahir’s growl held a wealth of warning.
“Nay, Bahir.” Alya’s hand lay pale gold against the dark of Bahir’s arm. “I want to hear.”
Dark shadows clung beneath her eyes. She looked tired.
“I have a suggestion,” Henry said.
Alya motioned him to continue. She leant her slim frame against Bahir’s side like she sought comfort from the contact.
“You could come back to Anglesea with Newt and me.” Best to get to it.
Alya frowned.
“The English wants you to marry him,” Bahir said, and made it sound like he’d offered to drop her in pig piss.
Alya gaped, and jerked away from Bahir. “What?”
“I said I thought it would be safer for you if you were under the protection of my name.” Henry tried to recover the ground Bahir had cost him. “As long as you are unmarried, and away from your family, you are subject to the sort of insult you suffered this afternoon.”
She bit her lip and stared at her bare feet peeking out from the bottom of her gown. “Bahir.” She raised her head. “Can you let Henry and I speak of this. Alone.”
“Nay.” Bahir’s chest swelled.
Henry took a moment to recover from his surprise. He had expected to receive an instant dismissal. That she even considered it caused a strange reaction, part trepidation and part victory, to surge through him. As a husband, he was a poor choice for her. A man without a soul. He nearly recanted his offer right there. Then again, the selfish side of him saw only his girl on the wall and how much he hungered for her.
“I’m not a child.” She took Bahir’s big hands in hers. “My situation is precarious. Whether my father lives or not, I cannot return to Cairo until it is safe for me. I have only you, and a boat full of wealth that makes me a target in so many ways.”
“I can protect you.” Bahir’s tone came as close to imploring as Henry had ever heard it. “I will protect you. There is no need for you to promise yourself in marriage to a man we know nothing about.”
“Ask me what you would know.” Henry spread his arms wide and tried to appear nonthreatening. “I am from good family. I have wealth. In my country, my name would provide the sort of shelter she needs.”
Bahir turned to her. “You cannot be consider—”
“Please, Bahir. I need a few moments with Sir Henry.” In her calm lay the woman of substance beneath her lovely face. Her serenity struck him, and Bahir too it seemed, as the big man nodded and went belowdecks,
Sea breeze tugged tendrils of midnight hair over her face. Alya tucked them behind her ear. “Your offer is most generous, Sir Henry.”
“Henry.” He could not bear his title on her lips. Sir Henry had died on that battlefield beside the Nile.
“Henry.” Her sweet smile almost made him want to be that man again. “Bahir only seeks to protect me.”
Henry nodded. He did understand that. Some part of him even admired Bahir’s dedication to his vow. “I too vowed to your father that I would take care of you.”
She tilted her head. “You did?”
“He loved you.”
Hunching her shoulders, she folded her arms about her middle. “I will always regret my leave-taking from him.” She glanced at him before staring out at the night sea. “It is what you tried to tell me, wasn’t it?”
“Aye.” He wanted to comfort her, but it was not his place. “I left my family with anger between us. They did not want me to go on pilgrimage.”
Profile dark against the moonlit water, she nodded. “You spoke from experience.”
“Aye.”
“And now you have a second chance.” She sighed.
So it would seem. What would his family make of the man he had become?
Water slapped against the hull, gently rocking the boat.
“Anyway.” She turned back to him. “We cannot change the past, but must needs look to the future. I cannot return to Cairo.” Her chuckle held an undertone of bitterness. “I am not welcome here. I must go somewhere.”
“You consider my offer?” Before he could stop himself, he took a step nearer. She drew him.
“It is the only one I have.” She gripped the rail and sighed. “Now I sound ungrateful and I do not mean to.”
Against the wooden railing, her hand appeared impossibly delicate. Henry covered it with his own.
She started and looked at him.
“My vow to your father demands that I ensure your future.”
She stared at his hand over hers. “Aye, but marriage.” She took a deep breath. “That seems a dire step, even to honor a vow. Could I travel with you to your country until I know where I want to go?”
“You could.” Henry threaded his fingers through hers. “But that would make you open to scorn and disrespect.” He raised their joined hands to his chest. To speak what his heart held seemed nigh impossible. Her hand against his chest provided a small measure of comfort. “I have not much left of the man who I was, Alya. That man would never have dreamed of dishonoring a woman, and there is still enough of him deep within for me to know that the only way I could take you to my home was as my wife.”
“Oh.” She tightened her fingers about his. “I think there is more of that former you than you believe within you.”
If only she knew. He forced a chuckle past his lips. “Be that as it may. I offer you the protection of my name.”
“Is there no sweetheart you left behind?” Moonlight kissed the clean lines of her face. “No lady who awaits your return.”
“I was never one to chase skirts.” Would her skin feel as cool to touch as it looked? Smooth like marble. Her beauty was made of the earth, elemental and sensual. He imagined it would warm the cold place within him. “But I shall do my best to make you a worthy husband.”
“What will your family say?” She grimaced. “They will not be happy with your infidel bride.”
If Henry could break Ugo’s face, he would do it. “My family will open their hearts to whoever holds mine.”
“But I don’t.” She pulled her hand free, leaving his strangely cold. “I don’t hold your heart, Sir Henry.”
He defied anyone to look into her eyes and lie to her. “I am not sure I still have a heart, my lady. But you hold my respect and my esteem and I know of several marriages that do not even have that.”
She gave a wry laugh. “This is the truth.”
“Marry me, Alya.” He had not William’s pretty way with words. “If we do not suit, you can go whither you desire, and still carry the protection my name affords you.”
“And Bahir?” Mischief played across her expression.
“Bahir.”
Henry barely kept it above a growl. “I understand well that where you go, he goes. I cannot like it, but I will tolerate it.”
“He is a good man. His heart is pure,” she said.
He did not wish to speak of Bahir. “Take the remainder of the night and think about my offer. Come morning, we will need to decide where we are going, because we cannot safely remain here.”
Looking out to sea, she said, “I do not need the night.”
Failure, his old friend, banged on the doors of his mind.
She turned back to him with a gentle smile. “I will marry you, Henry.”
Chapter 11
Alya hadn’t been one of those women who pictured her wedding throughout her girlhood. Still, even she could have conjured something better than a grimy little church beside the docks.
How Newt managed to find a priest who would marry them the next morning Alya didn’t know. Yet, here she stood, in front of a priest as he droned his way through the mass. Food stains covered the straining girth of the priest’s hassock, and he smelled of strong spirits. Still, he knew the words well enough to bind her life to Henry’s from this day forward.
As if he feared she would run, Henry held her hand in a firm grasp. Sunlight streamed through stained-glass windows and kissed the gold of his hair. The gravely beautiful lines of his face looked like one of the saints depicted in the windows of the small church. His nose bent a little to the right as if it had been broken a time or two. Blazoned across his chest, the snarling dragon seemed to challenge all about it.
The priest had fallen silent. He looked at her.
Henry looked at her.
Even Bahir stared.
“Will you or will you not,” Newt whispered.
“Will I what?”
With a grimace, the priest asked her again if she would be Henry’s wife.
“Aye.” Alya nodded. “I will.”
Newt snickered.
Best she pay better attention to her wedding. It seemed unreal.
Since last night Bahir had said no more about the matter.
Braced to counter all his arguments, she had been surprised when he merely asked her what she would wear.
