Enslaved by the Desert Trader

by Greta Gilbert

  ‘Unless the King can produce a miracle, the cause is doomed.’

  ‘I fear we are all doomed whatever the outcome.’

  ‘You sound bitter, Arabella.’

  She gave him a cold look. ‘Bitter? I remember those months after Marston Moor, when everyone thought the war must end. It seemed impossible then that it would start up again. How soon they were to be proved wrong. And now look at me. My husband is dead—along with our child. My father was killed at Naseby and my brother is preparing to prolong the fight. I have no home to call my own and I have been forced to throw myself on my sister’s charity, whose house has been violated by men who care nothing for the cause but only for what they can plunder from the homes of decent people without respect to their persons. Yes, Edward, I am bitter. Bitter that there are those not satisfied and continue to stir up the ugly storm of war, determined to drag it out to the bitter end.’

  ‘No corner of England has remained untouched by the evils of war, Arabella. In every shire and every town, families have been divided and much blood spilled. With the failure to find a political solution all England is in confusion. Many remain loyal to the king.’

  ‘As a man or as a symbol?’

  ‘The latter, I think. When the end comes there will be no recovery.’

  ‘King or Parliament—it’s not as if war decides who is right—only who has the power to rule.’

  ‘I fear you are right. Royalists are fleeing in their hundreds to the Continent like rats deserting the sinking ship.’

  ‘If they loved their homes more, they would stay behind and share the burdens of defeat with their womenfolk.’

  Edward was silent while she wrung a bloodied cloth out in the bowl of water, then, ‘Do you bear malice toward me—for what happened between us?’

  ‘Malice?’

  Briefly Arabella closed her eyes. It was painful to recount such memories, especially when she had become so accustomed to burying them—or trying, for no matter how hard she had tried she had not succeeded. Secretly she had missed him more than she would have believed possible, for how could she ever forget how volatile, mercurial and rakishly good looking this man was?

  She recalled the pain she had felt when told he had renounced their betrothal, the horror and humiliation of it. She had promised herself that never again would she allow herself to be so treated.

  Reaching deep inside herself, she pushed thoughts of his rejection of her away. Thinking like this served no purpose. There was nothing to be gained from these haunting thoughts. Shaking the shroud of the past from her, she set herself firmly to this one task of tending his wound. Besides, she had other matters on which she must focus now—his child and what she was going to do about him.

  ‘Why should I bear malice? I can understand it must be a grim prospect indeed for a man who is compelled to exchange marriage vows with an unappealing woman merely to satisfy his family. You wanted Anne Lister, I knew that. Despite her family being for Parliament, the moment you were introduced you were smitten by her.’

  He nodded gravely. ‘That I cannot deny.’

  ‘You merely married the woman of your choice.’

  ‘Aye. And look how that turned out,’ he replied, his lips twisting bitterly, seated on the stool at the side of the table.

  ‘I heard and I am sorry.’

  ‘Are you, Arabella?’

  ‘I believe she left you.’

  ‘After eight months of marriage she went back to live with her brother—her father having been killed at the beginning of the war.’

  ‘I—also heard that she wanted some kind of judicial separation.’

  ‘She was carrying my child. I refused to give her one.’

  Lowering her eyes, Arabella wondered how he had felt when his wife told him she wanted to leave him. Had Anne’s rejection of him hurt him as much as he had hurt her, Arabella, when he shattered all her hopes and dreams?

  ‘If she had not been with child, would you have let her go?’

  He nodded. ‘I would not have kept her with me against her will. She was not like you, Arabella. Commitment was not much in her thoughts when she married me.’ He studied her face closely. ‘I should not say this, I know, but I did miss you when we parted.’

  ‘No, Edward, you should not. You left and for me nothing was the same any more. What we have to share is no more than a distant memory, as old and useless as the lame nag the Roundheads left behind.’

  ‘I hurt you.’

  ‘You made a promise you did not keep.’

  ‘No, Arabella. My parents made a promise on my behalf. As yours did.’

  ‘That does not alter the fact that you let me down. I got on with my life when you married Anne Lister. I believe the wedding was held in the presence of the King.’

  She smiled thinly, remembering how beautiful Anne had been. The Listers had been known to Arabella’s family, but because of the Listers’ allegiance to Parliament they were never friends. As the only daughter of doting parents and the sister of three adoring elder brothers—two of whom had lost their lives at Naseby—Anne had been spoiled and indulged all her life. She harmed everything she touched. With a sly look and a mere inflection of her voice she could cause pain to the happiest of hearts.

  Arabella had often asked herself why Anne was like she was, inflicting cruelty for its own sake, taking a sensuous delight in seeing another’s pain. Arabella could see her now—those slanting green eyes beneath the brown hair, that hard, red-lipped mouth. It seemed incredible to Arabella that anyone could have been deceived by her. Yet her power to charm had been overwhelming. People fell under her spell like skittles knocked over.

  But Arabella had not been taken in, not for a moment. The moment they had laid eyes on each other, both of them had been aware of a mutual hostility. It hadn’t mattered to her one iota that Edward was a King’s man—indeed, she had preferred the rich trappings of royalty than the spartan, puritanical way of life her family tried to force on her.

  But Anne would have none of it. She had been determined to have Edward and married him without her brother Malcolm’s consent when he was away with his regiment. Once she had what she wanted she flaunted herself shamelessly when in the company of Edward’s friends. Edward’s appeal was diminished and she was entirely without mercy. Their heated quarrels were notorious and it was no secret that Anne had begun to look elsewhere for her pleasure.

  ‘Anne had a large inheritance from her mother,’ Arabella went on. ‘So, yes, Edward, you married well. When you ended our engagement when the first conflict was over, like many more Royalists who had no intention of abandoning the cause, you needed funds to raise a troop of horses. You would have been a fool if you had let her slip from you and didn’t seize her fortune for yourself.’

  His face hardened. ‘You think I am that mercenary?’

  ‘You gave me no reason to think otherwise.’

  ‘However you interpret it, it served my purpose. At the time the whole future of England was at stake. Desperate means called for desperate measures.’

  ‘Are you saying you didn’t love your wife?’ she ventured pointedly.

  ‘I thought I did. I was wrong and you were right. I needed money. Emotions did not count.’

  ‘Emotions, but not honour. Your actions were not exactly subtle and did you no credit in my eyes.’

  He looked at her for a long considered moment before saying, ‘You are a different person, Arabella. I feel I am meeting you for the first time.’

  ‘And do you approve?’

  ‘I approved before—however badly I behaved towards you.’

  ‘Then why did you leave me?’ She looked at him steadily as she waited for him to answer, yet not wanting to hear it. ‘Please don’t tell me. I knew Anne. She was very beautiful—and exciting. No man could resist her. You were no e
xception—and I was very young and inexperienced in the ways of the world.’

  ‘But now you are a woman.’

  ‘I had to grow up quickly when I married John.’

  ‘Were you not happy with John Fairburn?’

  ‘Marriage is not always what we expect.’ More than that she would not say, but with her head bent over her task so he could not see her face, she thought of silent meals, of the brutality she had been forced to endure in her cold bed, of John constantly chastising her for any transgression, however small, and she said nothing.

  ‘After John died followed so soon by our home being sacked and burned when the Roundheads came calling, with Stephen away and London being an unsafe place to be, I came to Alice.’ He was watching her intently. Arabella could feel the heat of his gaze burning through the fabric of her dress. ‘I shall be a while longer,’ she said, struggling to sound casual and unconcerned. ‘Are you comfortable?’

  ‘Perfectly.’

  She jumped at the sound of his voice so close to her ear. Her eyebrows sloped gently above her eyes and furrowed slightly as she continued to clean away the dried-on blood from around the wound. Her hair fell across her eyes in such a way as to provide a drape from his penetrating gaze that so disturbed her.

  ‘Please put your head to one side. This is very precise work.’ She was finding it difficult to concentrate with him so close, close enough for her to breathe in the smell of his skin.

  ‘Is it in your way?’

  ‘Yes, it is. It’s blocking the light.’

  He tilted his head back. ‘Is this enough? Can you see now?’

  ‘It’s fine.’

  The cold of the still room was welcoming, but it could not keep pace with the heat building up inside Arabella’s body. She had not seen him for five years. She should be immune to him by now and it angered her to know he still had the power to stir her deepest emotions.

  She remembered how, before he had ended their betrothal, he had teased her and playfully tugged her hair as though she were still a child, unaware how her blood thrummed in her veins and her heart beat quickened in her breast, as she yearned for him to look at her the way he looked at Anne Lister.

  Copyright © 2016 by Helen Dickson

  ISBN-13: 9781488004292

  Enslaved by the Desert Trader

  Copyright © 2016 by Greta Gilbert

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