by Marie Laval
‘Where is my son?’ She shouted, panicked and clutching the woman’s gown.
Aicha’s sister shrugged. Hugo grabbed her shoulders and spoke to her harshly in Arabic. She said a few words and pointed to the door.
‘She says a man came for him earlier. He told her he was taking the boy to the harbour,’ he translated, turning to Marie-Ange.
‘Which man? Why did he go to the harbour?’
Hugo spoke to Aicha’s sister again. She shook her head and raised her hands in the air.
‘Go back to the palace with Yasmin,’ he said as they walked out of the house. ‘Zentar and I are riding to the harbour now.’
He jumped on his horse but instead of following Yasmin into the carriage, Marie-Ange ran to him and clung to his leg.
‘Let me come with you,’ she pleaded.
‘No,’ he answered. ‘It may be dangerous and you’ll be in my way. Aicha’s sister said the man was armed.’
‘But you won’t know him. And he won’t know you! Please,’ she insisted.
His mouth twisted into an angry grin.
‘You are right. I don’t even know what my son looks like.’ He extended his hand and she grabbed hold of his arm so he could hoist her up behind him. ‘Hold tight,’ he said before spurring the horse on the road to Algiers.
Chapter Thirty
Hugo rode hard and fast behind Zentar. Clinging onto his waist, Marie-Ange’s heartbeat echoed the thumping of the horses’ hooves, prayers for Lucas’ safety and questions about who had taken him and why whirling in her mind.
The sky was getting lighter already by the time they entered Algiers. The dawn dew felt like mist on her skin. In the lower part of town a few men staggered around, shouting and singing as taverns closed one by one.
Hugo spurred the horse down a lane towards the harbour. Smooth as a mirror, the sea reflected the grey dawn sky.
In front of them, Zentar drew reins. ‘I shall get the harbour master. If you start at this end of the jetty, I will work from the other side.’
‘There are too many ships. How will we know which one he is on?’ Marie-Ange cried in anguish.
‘We’ll find him,’ Hugo said calmly as he helped her off the horse. ‘From the description the woman in Kouba gave me, we are looking for a small, dark-haired man with a scruffy grey suit.’ He frowned. ‘Actually, it reminds me of the man who tried to buy you back from me last night.’
Marie-Ange gasped. ‘He was on the Maltese ship. I thought it was odd he should be at Aicha’s and not with the other hostages. I saw him in Catania several times these past few weeks.’
Hugo raised his eyebrows. ‘Do you have any idea who he is?’
‘No.’ She shook her head.
He surveyed at the dozens of ships moored along the quays and let out a sigh of frustration. ‘Not long before daybreak. We must hurry.’
He tied the reins of his horse to a pillar. ‘There should only be fishermen getting ready to go out at this time. Any larger ship must have the go ahead from the customs officer and the harbour master before setting sail.’
They ran to the end of the jetty where fishermen loaded nets and baskets onto small boats. The man’s voice she had heard before started singing as the sun appeared beyond the line of the horizon.
‘Who is singing?’ she asked, slightly breathless, as they ran along the quay.
‘The muezzin, calling the faithful to prayer,’ Hugo answered. ‘Can you see anything?’
There were so many boats. Lucas could be anywhere. It would take hours to search them all even with Zentar and the harbour officials’ help. Her eyes caught sight of red sails being hoisted up. The chebec was still there. For some reason she couldn’t fathom, she felt drawn to it.
‘The pirates’ ship is over there,’ she said.
Hugo frowned. ‘That’s strange, it looks like they are about to set sail. I wonder if…’
He pulled his pistol out and darted forward. She ran behind but stumbled in her red slippers. She kicked them off and carried on barefoot. Standing on deck, one hand casually resting on the banister, was the man they were looking for.
‘He’s on board!’ Marie-Ange pointed to the chebec.
Alerted by her shouts, Rachid appeared on deck and immediately gave an order for his pirates to start firing. Hugo hid behind a pile of coiled rope, gestured for Marie-Ange to do the same. Peering out from behind the ropes, he took a few shots at the ship. Two pirates collapsed, one fell from the netting at the top of the mast into the harbour. The chebec’s sails filled with wind and it pulled away from the jetty towards the high seas.
Zentar and half a dozen guards jumped into a boat and rowed towards the pirates. Oblivious to the shots being fired at him, Hugo dived into the harbour’s dirty waters. Then grabbing hold of a rope dangling at the rear of the chebec, he climbed on board. From his small boat Zentar shouted something to Rachid in Arabic. An argument between the pirates and the Italian man followed before Rachid gestured to his men to hold their fire and the ship turned back towards the harbour.
By then Hugo had reached the banister. He climbed onto the deck and disappeared into the cabin, only to come back a few moments later with a screaming bundle in his arms.
Lucas! Relief washed over Marie-Ange like a tidal wave. She almost stumbled down to the ground as the tension that had kept her moving for the past few hours melted away.
The chebec moored alongside the quay with a bump and Hugo jumped down, holding Lucas as if he was the most precious thing in the world. Marie-Ange ran to them and held her hands out for Lucas who knotted his arms around her neck.
‘Thank you! Thank you!’ She told Hugo breathlessly, pressing the little boy to her heart.
He didn’t speak but watched them, a wistful expression in his eyes.
‘That was close,’ Zentar said when he joined them on the quay. ‘A few minutes later, and we would have missed them.’
‘You stopped them just in time. What did you say to them?’ Hugo asked.
‘I told them who I was and said they would never be allowed back in Algiers if they sailed away with your son.’ Zentar looked at Lucas and Marie-Ange, and then laughed whole-heartedly. ‘What about that, Ahar? You now have your lioness and a cub.’
Hugo didn’t answer. He raised a tentative hand to Lucas’ cheek, but withdrew it without touching him. His eyes hardened. ‘Can you take them back to the palace for me? There are things I need to do.’
He turned round and walked in long strides towards the pirates who were deep in conversation with the harbour officials. He seized the small Italian man by the collar, lifted him off the ground and dragged him away.
‘Where is he going?’ Marie-Ange tried to hide her disappointment. She had hoped they would go back to the palace together and that Lucas would meet his father at last. ‘He seems angry.’ Fear clutched at her heart again. What if he never forgave her?
‘Don’t worry,’ Zentar replied casually. ‘I think I understand. He’s angry all right, but with himself. He thinks he failed you and won’t rest until he has answers about who is behind your son’s abduction.’
He smiled and his warm brown eyes lit up. ‘You do you realise what you have done, don’t you? In one night, you have given him everything a man can ever wish for.’
Zentar hailed a carriage to take them back to his palace on the hilltop. They drove through the gate and came to a halt in the courtyard where they were immediately surrounded by a horde of servants.
‘I don’t understand. Does Hugo live here?’ Marie-Ange asked before stepping down.
‘He stays here with me when he is in Algiers. The rest of the time, he has his own estate in Bou Saada, in the south.’
‘Bou Saada?’
‘It’s an oasis town at the gates of the Saharan Atlas. I will leave you in the care of my staff for now.’ Zentar smiled. ‘Don’t worry about Ahar. He will be back soon.’
‘What do you call him?’
Zentar’s eyes lit up. ‘Ahar? It means mount
ain lion. Saintclair saved my life two years ago. He rescued me from an ambush.’ His face became serious. ‘There were traitors in my clan who sought to get me killed. Saintclair stood between them and me. He is the bravest man I have ever known. One of the proudest, too.’
The sea breeze freshened and shadows lengthened as the evening set in. On the patio Yasmin, Lucas, and Baya played at chasing ants with sticks. Footsteps echoed onto the tiled floor and Marie-Ange raised her eyes. Hugo leant against the white wall, arms crossed on his chest, casting a huge shadow across the ground. He looked at her and the children with an expression she couldn’t fathom.
‘I need to talk to you,’ he said at last. ‘I know who is behind the events of the past two days.’
He unfolded his arms and walked to Lucas. Kneeling down beside him, he searched in his pocket and took out a large blue marble. The little boy’s face lit up, and he grabbed hold of the bauble with a squeal of delight. Hugo smiled and ruffled his son’s dark hair. Marie-Ange felt her throat tighten. Now that they were side by side, the resemblance between father and son was striking. They had the same bright blue eyes, the same dark hair, the same stubborn line around the mouth. And the same devastating smile.
He looked up. Marie-Ange stood like a figure from a dream, immobile and basking in the last sunrays of the day. Her hair was golden, her skin glowed and a pensive smile lingered on her lips. He swallowed hard. She was no dream. She and the boy were real.
‘Come with me,’ he said.
They walked through the garden, brushing past brightly coloured bushes and flowers.
‘What do you know of your husband’s movements?’ Hugo stopped near the thick, scaly trunk of a palm tree.
She looked at him. ‘Christopher? Do you think he’s behind all this?’
‘I know he is. The Italian man told me. His name is Alphonso Vittori, by the way. He’s a petty crook, although he calls himself an agent. He was hired by Norton to stalk you in Catania and abduct you. He arranged for Rachid and his corsairs to capture the ship. The plan was to keep you and Lucas captive until…’ He breathed in and squared his jaw, ‘…you were malleable, as the bastard put it. He was supposed to take you and the boy to Malta where Norton would be waiting. However, Vittori and Rachid’s greed got the better of them. They decided to take all the passengers to Algiers as hostages and sell you to Aicha for a hefty price. Vittori would then buy you back at the auction—supposedly for one night—before sailing to Malta with you.’
He sighed. ‘That’s why he panicked when I turned up at the brothel and outbid him. When he failed to buy you back from me, he went to get Lucas. He was going to feed Norton some lie about you getting killed during the capture of the ship.’ He paused again. ‘I didn’t think I would ever say this but I’m actually thankful to that weasel. If he had followed Norton’s instructions, God knows where you’d both be by now.’
Marie-Ange closed her eyes briefly. ‘I haven’t heard from Christopher since I left him, two and a half years ago. He threatened to come after me and my child when I least expected it. It looks like he carried out his threat.’
‘Do you know where he has been the past two years?’
She shook her head.
‘Robert wrote he was dismissed from the Royal Navy and travelled a lot.’ She looked up to Hugo. ‘So he is in Malta? Where exactly?’
‘Vittori claims he has no idea where he is hiding, but he said something about a family wedding…and your father.’
Her eyes opened wide in shock.
‘My father wasn’t in Catania to meet me, as planned. He did not even send a note to explain his absence to his superior at the Order. They thought he had been delayed in Trieste.’
‘Trieste?’ Hugo frowned. ‘That’s where Fouché lives now, among a court of faithful agents who have vowed to help him return to France. Do you think Norton is in Trieste, too?’
‘I don’t know, Hugo, but I must find my father. I am worried about him.’
‘We will. We are leaving for Malta tomorrow. I secured the ransom for your relatives and for Sophie. They will be free in the morning. I also met with my superiors and requested some leave pending my resignation.’
She put her hand on his forearm. ‘You are resigning from the army. Why?’
‘It’s no big deal. I have been meaning to leave for a long time.’ He sighed. ‘We’d better go back for now. Zentar has prepared a feast in your honour.’
There was so much more he wanted to say but he couldn’t find the words. His behaviour had been despicable. He had abandoned her and their child to seek fortune in a far away land. How could she not hate him? Hell, if she didn’t, he hated himself enough for the two of them.
She had to talk to him while they were alone. She gathered the courage to put a hand on his arm. ‘No, wait! I want to explain why I didn’t tell you about Lucas.’
He squared his jaw and narrowed his eyes. ‘Go on.’
She dropped her hand by her side. ‘I should have told you when you came to Wellcombe Bay. I wanted to tell you, but you were leaving for Algiers. You said you wanted freedom and adventure. I loved you too much to bind you to me when you had made it very clear you did not love me.’
She took a deep breath. ‘You had a right to know. Please forgive me.’ Her voice broke and she turned away, unable to look at him.
‘Forgive you?’ He took hold of her arms to pull her close and glared at her with those intense blue eyes.
She held her breath.
‘I am the one who should beg forgiveness,’ he said, his voice harsh. ‘I am the one who was too damned stubborn and proud to speak out that day, when I finally understood why I hadn’t been able to forget you—and God knows I tried! Why the very thought of you drove me insane. Why I wanted you, still so much, even though you had chosen to return to your husband.’
He bent his head, lowered his voice. ‘When you refused to implicate Norton in your statement, when you protected him, I figured he still mattered to you, so I did not say anything.’
‘It wasn’t Christopher I was protecting,’ she protested. ‘It was Robert. He had just started at the Naval Academy, and I did not want him mixed up in his brother’s disgrace.’
He took a long, deep breath.
‘And so I am the biggest fool that ever lived,’ he whispered. He looked at her again, his eyes warm and soft. ‘What I wanted to tell you that day, what I should have told you was that…’ He took a deep breath. ‘I love you.’
It was like the sun shining into her heart, lighting her from inside. She stood on her tiptoes, held her hand to his cheek. He took hold of her fingers and kissed them lightly. They remained silent as the last rays of the sunset died down and the blue hour engulfed the gardens, turning them into a dreamland of transparent light and delicate shadows. He bent down to kiss her, brushing her lips softly until they parted. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he pulled her against him until it felt like they were melting into each other. He cupped her face and stared into her eyes.
‘Will you live with me in Bou Saada when we return from Malta?’
She smiled dreamily. ‘Oh yes, I will live anywhere as long as I am with you.’
He folded her into his arms again and buried his face in her hair.
‘I came too close to losing you and my son, so soon after finding you. I am not letting either of you out of my sight, ever again. That’s a promise.’
He was holding her so tight she could hardly breathe, but it was the most exhilarating feeling in the world. She lifted her face towards his. There were shadows under his eyes. His cheeks were covered with rough, dark stubble. She ran her fingers along the line of his shoulders and clasped them tightly behind his neck, pressing herself against him. With a groan, he bent down and kissed her hard.
‘I have waited almost three years for you. I want to take you to bed. Now,’ he whispered breathlessly against her mouth before his lips trailed along her throat. Her body responded to his caress, her skin tingled all over, and a warm s
ensation spread through her. She wanted him too, but she pulled away.
‘Later…first let me introduce you to your son.’
The Maltese ship left Algiers shortly after dawn. After Hugo complained to the French consul, Hussein Dey took the wise decision to free all the hostages. Marie-Ange watched the town disappear in the morning mist, floating above the sea with a mixture of elation and apprehension.
Hugo came up behind her. His arms encircled her waist. ‘We’ll be in Valletta tomorrow afternoon,’ he said. ‘I will have to speak to the English authorities about Norton as soon as we get there.’
She reclined against his chest with a sigh of contentment. She should be exhausted. They’d had very little sleep these past forty-eight hours, yet she had never felt so alive. Hugo bent down, lifted her curls, and kissed her neck. She blushed as his caress brought back the endless, burning heat of the previous night.
The banquet Zentar organised in her honour had been magnificent. Sword fighters, fire eaters, dancers, and musicians transformed the evening into a magical feast. Lucas had fallen asleep on her knees, and when she left the party to put him to bed, Hugo followed. Silently, he captured her hand and led her away. Once in the seclusion of his room, he feverishly slipped her blouse off her shoulders to cup her breasts in his hands, caressing her nipples with his thumbs until she moaned. He pulled her skirt up and pinned her against the wall, lifting her so she could wrap her legs around him. He had hastily untied his breeches, gripped her hips, and driven deep into her, whispering wild promises, swearing heated oaths. He had nipped at her throat, licked and kissed her breasts as the relentless force of his thrusts slammed her back against the wall again and again. Together they had shuddered and cried out as they finally reached the peak of their passion.
Later Hugo carried her to the bed, discarded his clothes, and they clung to each other and made love again, burning with the same haste, the same fever. He had taken her breath away with his caresses, stifled her cries under his kisses, and given her everything he had to give.
